


Lessons Learned and Taken Seriously

by Pirateking



Series: The illness [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Bipolar Disorder, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon Divergence - Red Hood and the Outlaws #25, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason-Centric, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Roy Harper, Reckless Behavior, References to Depression, Shame, mental health stigma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-09-30 09:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateking/pseuds/Pirateking
Summary: Jason and Bruce are the worst at communicating.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, here's a story I'm working on. I can't promise that I'll finish (I'm notorious for not), I don't have a BETA so forgive me for the misspelling you will definitely find along with Grammatical errors. If you feel up to it, let me know if you're available to be my BETA.

Bruce Wayne is a man of many accomplishments. He was successful in not only his civilian life as Bruce Wayne owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and his many degrees ranging from chemistry and physics is a testament that Bruce Wayne was and is more than just a rich boy from the upper crust of Gotham City, if not the whole world. With his hard work and discipline, along with a lot of patience from Alfred, Bruce Wayne became Batman. Bruce was meant to be Batman. For years Bruce believed he had finally been fulfilled.  

Then Dick had come along, in less than ideal circumstances, and had given Bruce a sense of meaning like no other. Fatherhood put the world in a different perspective. Brighter, clearer, and more hopeful. His first son would forever hold a special place in his life as all his children do. Fatherhood wasn’t something Bruce could ever claim to have come easy to him, he sucked, but he tried. While Dick had given Bruce joy, thrills, and hope. His other children had given him other gifts, little treasures that light his world up in dark days. But Jason, Jason didn’t give Bruce gifts, he taught him lessons. Lessons that changed Bruce’s perspective of the world, lessons that he- Bruce took to heart and implemented when interacting with Jason’s siblings.

Jason had taught Bruce how to be grateful. Grateful for being born a good family, grateful for being rich, grateful for having a home, grateful for being valued, grateful for having friends, grateful for being alive. Jason had been the only one to truly hammer in how lucky Bruce was. Even with Bruce having experienced, and at times trained with, hunger, cold, loss and cruelty throughout his life, Bruce’s status in the world as a Wayne had shielded him from the brunt of it all. Bruce was grateful he could call it quits whenever.

Jason taught him fear, Bruce didn’t know fear till he caught Jason hiding food in his room. Bruce hadn’t understood anxiety until he saw his son care for a pair of shoes, Bruce didn’t even know the pressure of being ignored, or being seen as less than. He’d always been a Wayne, he always being watched expected to succeed or cheered on to fail. Wayne’s are on all kinds of people’s list, never written off his father use to say. Jason had taught Bruce shame.

He wasn’t ready for having a son that was looked down on. Dick had been so bright, so charismatically charming, him being from the circus made him more special, not less. Everyone loved Dick, just like everyone loved Bruce—er Brucie. Dick was everything people wanted in a socialite world, and as Robin he shown like a beacon of hope, lighting up the dark night that Bruce dragged around him.

Jason, on the other hand, seemed to just garner displeasure from most. Bruce could admit, he had at times blamed Jason for that. The boy’s way of talking was crass, his rhetoric lacked any decorum, his lower Gothamite-Crime-Alley accent not only caused eyebrows to raise but made most people clutch their wallets tightly. Everything about the young boy set most people’s teeth on edge. Bruce didn’t think that was fair. Jason was more than the filth that he was raised with.

 Bruce had insisted in speech therapy classes, pushed Alfred in teaching Jason proper pronunciation and enunciation. He had told his son it was all for his training to be Robin, and that if he wanted to use his regular voice when in Robin costume that was fine, but it would make it too easy to connect Bruce Wayne’s newest ward to the Robin with a crime alley vernacular. He heard that dialect less and less after that talk.

If Jason could just talk like him, act more like them and dressed like them, then he wouldn’t be so hated, so damn hard to be liked by his peers, his teammates, and even the League. He can still see Clark's face when Jason had let a string of curse words after winning a match. It had embarrassed Bruce then, he’d grounded Jason for a week. Now, years after, his memory of Clark’s face only made him chuckle, Jason’s proud bragging filling a warm spot in his heart.

He wanted the world for Jason, Jason deserved the world. He focused so hard in getting Jason to focus, to get him to _see._ At times Jason seemed to respond in kind, he straightens his back when he walked and learned to smile while doing eye contact. His temper was still too hot, but there was still so much potential. Bruce just new with a few more pushes, Jason could finally be all that he could be.

His grades where the top of his class, his speech was perfect, Jason dressed better, acted better, and had become a uniquely popular Robin among the young children and victims. More so then Dick.

Bruce just knew, that soon Jason would grow into a man that everyone would love, just like Bruce loves the boy he has become.

 And then,… and then,…Jason dead. His wonderful, brave, passionate boy was dead. Just like that, all of Bruce’s hopes and dreams for his baby boy – gone.

It wasn’t till Tim; Stephanie and all his other children came around that Bruce had learned another lesson from Jason. Greif. If losing his parents had traumatized him, losing his child had broken him. The worst of the pain came after Tim, after his other children. Meeting Tim, having Tim as his new son had made him realize what he’d missed out. He, His family, Alfred, and Dick included wanted and needed to meet Tim.  Tim had saved him, and Bruce had excepted Tim as he was because he knew, how he’d messed up. Because, while they got to know Tim, he missed Jason more - not the Jason he wanted but the Jason he had and lost. He missed that voice with the clipped words and drawn out vowel, he missed Jason.

If Bruce had bothered to actually love Jason as the boy was, then maybe Jason wouldn’t have run off. Maybe Jason would have stuck around and talked to Bruce about what was happening. Jason might have trusted him enough to explain his anger. Maybe’s aren’t a place Bruce should live in, so he pushed those thoughts away and learns. Learns to talk to Dick, learns to talk to Tim and Damian. He forgot about that lesson with Stephanie and paid for it. By the time Cass came around, he was better.

Then his baby boy showed up, no longer a boy, but a man.  With so much anger and hate for Bruce, that it took Bruce’s breath away.

His other children came around, Bruce promised that he’d love them and take them as they are. If they wanted to change, then he’d lead by example. Damian was the proof of Bruce’s growth and positive influence. His family was so large, he was so lucky, so damn blessed. That at times he hated himself for it. Why was it, that things just lined up and worked so well for him, and not for his Jay-lad?

Years passed on and Bruce and Jason seemed to come to a truce. This time Bruce wouldn’t mess up, this time he’d guide Jason into being better, reaching his potential. He’d prove to Jason that his way of life could be Jason’s way of life.  He’d come around as Damian did, would flourish into something truly magnificent like Cassandra. His other children would bring Jason into the fold and everything would work out. Jason wasn’t killing anymore, and maybe with enough guides, he’d leave his disastrous barely mentally stable teammates behind.

Bruce’s family is finally becoming complete, he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, just a little bit more, one more push.

She leaves, tells him some BS about Batman.

Jason kills Cobblepot.

Bruce couldn’t do this. He needed to bring Jason down. He needed to show Jason that up until now, he’d held back. Because Bruce loves Jason and would never want to hurt him. But today he needed to. Jason needed to _see_.  Bruce is Batman and Batman couldn’t just let the Red Hood plunge Gotham back into bloodshed. He’d make this right. He’d beat Jason like he’d never beaten any of his children before. Because he loves Jason; and when Jason woke up, he’d be in a proper institution. Jason would be too injured to run.  Bruce would get a hold of J’ohn and use the League connections to see what is _wrong_ with his son’s mind.

Of course, it blows up in his face.

Jason is gone – Cobblepot is alive.

This is all Bruce’s fault

Bruce knows it, even Batman knows it.

His children are afraid of him, Alfred throws a plate at his face.

Life keeps moving, and Jason teaches him another lesson. Resilience. Bruce has loved and lost, been broken, traumatized but never has he let any of that defeat him. And like his son, he rises again to learn to hope again. He’d apologies to Dick, to Tim, Cass, Duke, and Steph. He’s explained his wrong action to Kate and Barbara. He’s pulled Damian aside and promises him, that he would never hurt him or any of his siblings like that, he would never do that to Jason again. Alfred refuses to talk to him for weeks.

With time, things go back to normal, Alfred talks to him and Dick no longer yells.

When Jason shows up again. He’s different but painfully the same. He’s not let Bruce break him, He never has.

 He talks differently, his words swoop and clip and he’s free in a way that Bruce has never seen him be before. He hasn’t killed, not sense before Cobblepot.  He keeps his distance and regains his power in Crime Alley and the Bowery. Puts on the Red Hood mantle like it’s the wings of a fairy. He doesn’t come to the manner anymore. He doesn’t call his siblings and barely speaks to Barbara. But still, Jason seems better. Like he’s flying inside his own skin, likes he’s in the Robin costume for the first time, but better. Bruce doesn’t know what it is, but he knows he doesn’t want to ruin it.

He accept Jason.

He’s learned

 

**TODD**

Jason felt better than he’d ever had. He’d gotten over the initial shock and denial, and rage, and horror and so many damn emotions that it was a miracle he hadn’t suffered from a brain aneurysm. He had come to terms with it.

Jason had a mental illness

Jason had needed help, all these years, he’d been sick.

Sick and rotting like his mother. Like Catherin, he’d self-medicated and listened to well-wishing friends advice.

Jason refused to die like Catherine. He wasn’t going to die like his mother, he wasn’t going medicate till it was all over. His friends and _family_ could go fuck themselves (except for Roy, and Artemis, and Biz, and Kori). He’d used training like his mom used syringes, crime-fighting had been his heroin.

It had been painful to think of it that way at first.

It is still painful.

The shame that came with his condition at times paralyzed him. There would be no cure, no rehab to fix it, nor training to curve it. He’d have to face it every day for the rest of his life.

He’d gotten help because of Roy. But more importantly for himself. Jason was sick, he had gotten help. Because Jason was sick, not afraid. Jason Todd had always gone headfirst into danger, nothing couldn’t be handled. Jason would manage his manic depression and PTSD the way he’d managed his body into a weapon. With discipline.

His therapist Dr. H words became his news laws, had become his 6 commandments.

# 1: _There needs to be a constant in your life Hood, something to ground you_

That’s what his therapist said, he didn’t have to change his whole life, there just needed to be some form of constant a routine to follow. Something to fall back on, when things start to fail. Like the stairs in a high-rise building.  He picked Gotham for that. It was one constant in his life. Even in his catatonic zombie boy state, he’d found protection in Gotham. And that was because Gotham never fucking changed. She was always dirty, dark and all-consuming.

# 2: _You don’t have stop crime fighting. If it brings you joy – do it. But you need to have something that winds you down after_

Jason bought a house, he’s slowly working in making it a home. There’s something peaceful about creating something in just the way you want. He spends weeks in figuring out the color scheme alone.

 

# 3: _Avoid triggers, until you’ve fully unpacked them. There’s no shame in putting things off till you’re ready_

He will not have any contact with the Bats. He was a Gothamite, he belongs there as much as the roaches did. They wouldn’t take his home from him. Just because they all jumped over roofs didn’t mean he had to talk to them. He avoided them at all cost, even if that meant patrolling later than normal, hell he even started going around in broad daylight. He doesn’t kill anymore, so that should keep Bruce away.

# 4: _You’re worth as much as the next person that takes a breath. You’re no one’s replacement, dummy, or scapegoat. Jason, it's ok to live._

He’s joined a book club (he really likes it), he makes an effort to go out clubbing. He’s in school again, he’s going to be a contractor.  

# 5: _Take breaks from all of it_

He does absolutely nothing every third Wednesdays of the month.

# 6: _You’ll fail a couple times, but you’ll get back up_

Slowly, his routine brings him peace. He feels like magic holds his feet higher, his mind is clear, he’s free. It’s incredible how good the world seems when his mind is slightly more balanced.

After six months, his hands still shake when he takes his medication, he doesn’t feel like a coward for taking his pills. He can tell now, what his real emotions are from that of the pits. He’s surprised when he realizes that he’s not that angry. His four-bedroom three bath home has been re-plumbed and rewired with up-to-date installations. He’s finished his kitchen and his bathrooms.

He’ll focus on the bedrooms as soon as his latest depression faze passes.

Jason is so busy now, his calenderer hanging on his refrigerator is filled with neatly written appointments and stickers to remind him of things he needs to do. A yellow sticker for the days he went to school, blue for his therapist appointment, green for a night out, pink for book club, and black for patrol. His cell phone buzzes with text messages from his class mates, his club friends and Roy.

He can do this.

He still hasn’t told Roy. Or anyone for that matter. It just makes for a better story to have Roy think he’s gotten it all together after a few pep talks and therapist sessions. It’s working for Roy, and Jason doesn’t want to put any doubts in the archer’s mind.

He doesn’t want Roy to know that the pills hidden behind a secret panel in the downstairs bathroom are part of the reason. He doesn’t want anyone to know.

What’ll happen if Roy finds out, or the rest of the Outlaws get a whiff of it? Would they think him incompetent? Before, when Jason’s behavior could be blamed with anger, Outlaws and heroes alike too could empathize with him. Everyone understood anger. But bipolar behavior? No, he knows what that would mean. They’d want to lock him up for being insane.

Jason knows that every time he got angry or disagreed, they’d wondered if he was off his meds. His opinions would be disregarded his emotions questioned. With his condition and past actions, he’d be compared to two-face, Riddler, or worse.

 He’d forbidden Roy from mentioning his therapy sessions to anyone. That alone was stigma enough. Artemis would consider it a weakness. Biz was becoming increasingly intelligent; the clone would know a liability when he sees it.

He trusted Roy. Jason just didn’t want to worry him. Why bother? It’s not like by Roy knowing, Jason’s condition would improve. Plus, Roy had enough problems to worry about.

Out of the blue, Alfred calls to wish Jason a Happy Easter. He’s asking for Jason to come and visit.

 How the hell did the old butler even get his number?

Talking with Alfred was hard, Jason loves Alfred, and he thinks Alfred loves him, and that alone makes things complicated, he tried his best in getting out of seeing the old butler. Alfred wanted to send him letters, Jason declined (he couldn’t give him his address) Alfred then insisted in weekly phone call, Jason declined (he’s already going to have to get new phone, how the hell did he get his number?), Alfred wanted to resume meeting at a diner like before,…. not a chance, Alfred then insisted in Jason visiting, no if, buts, or ands.

“One-hour Master Jason, could not possibly be so detrimental to your life that you cannot spare a moment in your life to visit an elderly man that wishes to simply see your face?”

“Al-“

“Today then, for a late dinner. My Birthday _was_ last week?”

“Is that a fact?” He didn’t know what else to do

“Wonderful, I’ll be waiting for you Master Jason.”

“Alfred please, I really don-.” Leave me alone, please

“I understand that things went poorly between you and Bruce, but my dear boy, I - I miss you.” There’s a thickness to Alfred’s voice that makes Jason’s eyes water.

“Is he going to attack me when I get there?” it was a bold question to ask the butler, the pause that followed signaled how taken aback the Brit was by it.

“ _He_ would never get the chance Master Jason, I can promise you that.”

“I-“

“Please”

The two set in silence for what feels like hours, it’s been over nine months, he misses Alfred too.

“Ok.” Jason’s head feels like its got worms in it “what time should I get there?”

“I’ll serve dinner at six.”

“K”

“Thank you, Master Jason, for what it’s worth, I’m happy you’ll be attending”

His hands shake when the call ended. The Bats have tracked him down. If Alfred has his number, then Bruce must have it too. All the manner’s phone calls are tracked. Alfred doesn’t use a cell phone (cause he’s posh) when at home. That means that they know of this place.

Quickly he moves his medication the more secure location in the house. They will be ransacking his home as soon and Jason leaves. That was fine. It was bound to happen, most of his safe houses had been at one point or another. But Jason couldn’t let them know about his condition.  Christ, if Bruce finds out he’ll beat Jason up again.

**‘it will be your own choice’** he can feel Bruce’s hand on his head, dragging him to his death.

Jason’s self-help books are hidden behind wood floor panels and he’s erased his search history. He puts his calendar under the fridge. His hands shake even more when he throws up all over the kitchen floor.

Fuck, he’s losing it.

He had to cancel his book club for tonight and texts Dr. H

Jason: _Burn everything, I’m getting a new phone. I’ll contact you when I can_

Dr H: _Lucky for you, I don’t keep notes._

Jason didn’t bother with another text, he trusted his therapist. She’d burn everything and get a new phone. She’s reliable.

Jason then sends a group - texts to his friends saying that he was changing cell providers and would no longer be using this number. He’d get a new one sometime next week (or never, all depends on the level of meltdown he was about to have).

Jason crushed his phone and flushed it down the toilet in pieces.

Then cleans his brand-new kitchen floor with bleach.

He was sure, either Red Robin or Black Bat would be sent in to investigate his living conditions. Why hadn’t he finished the bedrooms? Half his home still needed to be painted. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid Jason.

 Breathe

 He told himself. So, what they got to see his home? What of it? He was proud of it. Yeah, should six months be more than enough time to have finished? Yes. But they didn’t know how many times he’d given up or crawled under the covers unwilling to do anything more than cry. They didn’t know he failed one of his classes and would need to retake it next semester. They didn’t know about his terrible dancing at the nightclub last week, or the book he was reading at his book club. The Bats didn’t know jack shit! That’s why they want to ransack his home.

Taking a deep breath, Jason calmed down. He could do this. Go in say nothing and then come out. He wasn’t the Jason he was last year. He’d come along way by himself before the therapy before the magic pills hidden away in his home.

He could do this.

 

 


	2. They try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, please check out the comments left behind by Wisetypewriter and Zootopon, I've explained the direction I've taken with the characters. 
> 
> Thanks, everyone for all the kudos and comments! I right now I already have the first 3 chapters are written and have simply been editing them. I hope with this chapter some questions are answered. I also want people to keep in mind that Jason rarely makes good healthy decisions for himself. All this is knew to him.

**THE MANOR**

Of all the things Jason had considered happening for dinner, this wasn’t it. Alfred had greeted him at the door as expected. What Jason hadn’t expected was seeing a driveway filled with cars and him having to park his bike a little way away (Unfortunate because he wanted his getaway car as accessible as possible). He recognized Dick’s car and Tim’s, he assumed the one with the handicap sign hanging from the rearview mirrors is Barbara’s. The other’s though, he’s not sure. He knows two of them are Bruce’s cars.

He wore a dark grey turtleneck and deep red jeans. He’d managed to make the color come back to his face (the thin armor under his sweater probably helped with that). He didn’t bother combing his hair and wondered if his dirty converse would piss Alfred off. Everyone was apparently already in the dining room, Jason couldn’t understand why everyone was here. Dick sure, Tim may be, but the rest, shouldn’t they be ripping his house open right about now?

He wasn’t sure how to proceed, he nearly stumbled as Alfred ushered him to the seat between Barbara and Duke…was it? Should he say hi to everyone? Dick was smiling at him and Tim was staring. Damian was, well he looked like he wanted to say something but by the way Alfred was looking at him he wasn’t allowed to. Stephanie and Cassandra seemed to not know where to place their eyes, and of course to Jason total horror, Bruce sat the head of the table (Jason was glad to be off to the side and not looking directly at him), Dick sat across from Jason. The other face he knew but couldn’t really place a name to.

Oh, and then Jason realized why they were staring. No one had seen Jason sense before Bruce decided to beat him to death on behalf of Cobble Pot. They must have imagined that his face should be disfigured in some way. Well, the joke was on them, other then a scar on his left eyebrow tucked neatly under his eyebrow hair there wasn’t much evidence left on his face.  His neck on the other hand-well the Batarang scar from Bruce’s first attempt in killing him was hidden under his turtleneck. If he shaved his hair off from his head, then they could see the mess off scars from when the back of his helmet broke against the concrete floor and nearly scalped him when Bruce tried to cave his face in on _behalf of CobblePot_. He kept his hair a little long to hide it.

God, why was it so quiet?

“It’s good to see you little wing” Dick manages to say, his eyes are opened wide and his smile is so large Jason’s sure Dick’s face will break.

The past Jason would have told him to fuck off, last years Jason – the needy Jason looking for Daddy’s approval – would have asked why. Today clear minding Jason said well…

“Nice ta see ye too.” Jason almost bit his own tongue. He’d blame it on all his new social interactions in the last year that has forced the habit. He didn’t bother hiding his lower Gotham accent at school and the grandmothers at the book club gave him extra cookies when they heard the drawl. As Red Hood the dialect authenticated him as one of them, causing both victim and perpetrators to trust him more.  Dick, on the other hand, looked like he was about to pee himself with excitement; Stephanie’s eyebrows where all the way up to her hairline.

“Oh Ja-“ before Dick could finish reaching out for Jason’s hand Alfred walked in with the trays. Good for Dick, Jason was totally going to stab Dick’s hand with the fork and eat the acrobat’s fingers for dinner.

“Dinner is served”  

Like the well-trained monkeys they all where an automatic chorus of ‘thank you’ came out of everyone. Jason looked down at his plate and found he had was nauseous. Again. A side effect of his medication. But the meal was one of Jason’s favorites and wasn’t about to ask for a pack of ice for his stomach. He’d force himself to eat. Jason Todd did not waste food. He was hungry, he could eat through an upset stomach.

The silence at this dinner table was almost laughable. Dr. H was going to have one hell of a laugh. It was not permitted to talk about capes and crimefighting outside of the cave – Alfred’s rule.  So, what the hell was there to talk about? Jason sure as hell didn’t want to share what he was up to with anyone there. Bruce even seemed to forgo the obvious lecture he wanted to give to Jason because of that rule. _Fucking prick, of course, he had something to say._

“Sooo – Jason you – ah – have any hobbies?” Jason looked to his right, Duke looked like he partly regretted asking, but was too well raised not to do some form of small talk at the dinner table. For a brief second, he considered ignoring Duke, but then realized that he held nothing against the kid, and if small talk made him feel better then small talk Jason could do. It’s not Duke’s fault he ended up in this emotionally constipated family, it’s not Duke’s fault he has to sit by crazy, Jason.

“Carpentry. You?” what he wasn’t going to bring up his book club. Surprised momentarily Duke quickly responded.

“Oh yeah? That’s cool. I like to watch sports and play sports you know” Jason nods his head. It’s not too different from when he’s talking to his neighbors. Just be polite, deflect questions and get answers, nothing to it.

“An’ sport ya like best?”

“Ah man, all of them. Really depends on the season and the players. You build anything lately?” looks like Duke also knows how to deflect questions and get answers.

“I built a kitchen table the other week” and a coffin just for kicks and giggles.

“No way, I broke one the other day while watching hockey” and so the two of them went, talking about carpentry and sports. At times Alfred would interject with questions of his own as would Dick. Mostly question where aimed at Jason. And his carpentry.

Eventually, Tim pipped up and asked Jason if he’d read any new books lately. Cass asked if he liked her shirt, Jason said yes. Damian glared, and Barbara asked if he wanted more to eat. It was so close to being over, he just needed to make it past dessert.

He was happy for the food; a side effect of his pills was an increase in appetite. Jason typically exercised self-control at home and in his daily life but here, with Alfred’s cooking, he’d gladly deal with diarrhea later tonight. Then demon brat opened his mouth

“Todd, must you be here? We were doing just fine-“

“Damian” Dick hissed in warning. Jason noticed Damian flinch no doubt from kick given to him under the table. Most likely from Tim.

“He’s here only to eat and take up room!”

“Master Damian, I have invited Master Jason and that is final.” The little conversation going on between the group seized and ones again the dinner table was quieter than the tomb Jason woke up in. “You will apologize.” Damian looked like he was about to throw a tantrum. Spoiled little shit. The most loved son of them all.

“It’s fine Alfred, I was 'bout to 'inish here and go in a couple of 'inutes anyways.” He’s getting the hell out of here.

“What? No little wing, I thought maybe you would stay a little while after?” Dick had that hopeful look on his face he always had when dealing with Jason. Hopeful but sure as hell not helpful. Where the fuck was he when daddy dearest was fracturing Jason’s skull?

“Spend time,- together.” Cassandra interjected. Her glass-like eyes focused on Jason.

“Yeah man, I’ve picked out the movie for tonight-“

“I’ve got popcorn and blankets set out.” Barbara suddenly jumped into the conversation followed by other voices, voices Jason was having a hard to hearing.

_They’re trying to keep him here…why?_

_They don’t know about his house._

That’s why they’re all here, they hadn’t had enough time to trace Alfred phone call. Even if the kind butler had whispered in his ear that he’d used his cell phone, that didn’t negate the fact that he had Jason’s number without Jason’s permission. Why was Bruce so fucking quiet!

“I’m 'eaving. Thanks for the food, Alfred.” He gets up slowly, picks his dirty dishes up and starts heading to the kitchen “I’ll wash my own dishes before I leave.” He can feel the eyes on him. Damian looks weird, as he slips into the kitchen.

He’s trying his best to wash the plates to Alfred’s standards. He is working on his glass when he feels a presence behind him. _Please be Dick, please be Dick, or Tim, or Duke or -the damn devil._

“Jason.” It’s Bruce, why wouldn’t it be.

“B” Jason finishes the glass, carefully setting it to dry.  He slowly turned around to face his da-past mentor. He braced himself for a punch, or maybe hands around his neck?

Bruce looked healthy, older, still tall still everything a Wayne should be. His blue eyes locked on to Jason’s own duller muddier blue eyes. He looks sad? Probably sad to see Jason so soon.

“How have you been.”

“Great. I have to go.” He dries his hands on his pants and has already set himself towards the kitchen exit.

“Jason wait.”

Rule # 3: _Hood avoid triggers_

“I have to go.” He doesn’t look, he doesn’t hear anything. Not when he passes Bruce, passes Tim, passes Duke and pushes his way around Alfred. He’s out. He heads down the steps winds his way around cars, is Jason running? He is, he’s in a dead sprint. He thinks he can feel Bruce run after him, then he sees Dick standing by his bike. He wants to shoot him. He doesn’t

“Little wing wait-

“Get out of my way Dickface”

“No, Jason we need-

“I don’t give a shit about what you or any one of the Bats need.” _I need to get out_

Dick raised his hands up in a disarming way, the look in his was resigned, he kept his stance non-threatening.

“Look I just wanted to know if you’re ok.”

“I’m great, I need to go.”

“I’m sorry.” Jason stops, his stomach hurts even more.

“Dick, just leave me alone.”

“Jason, I know you don’t want anything to do with us. I know I fucked up. But please just talk to us. Even if it's only hello.  I won’t let anyone get near you, I haven’t let anyone come near you.”

_Well, that explained a lot._

He took a deep breath what was that DR. H said again? Oh yeah _No shame on putting things off till you’re ready_

“Four weeks.” Dick's eyes lit up

“What?”

“Give me four weeks, and I’ll contact one of you”

“A-oh ok-four weeks? I can wait four weeks.” Jason nodded and stepped around Dick. He feels Bruce’s eyes on him. He feels the whole damn clan stare. Their eyes digging into him. He finally leaves. 

Jason doesn’t drive to his home. He gets a new phone and sleeps that night in one of his other safe houses. He throws up again before he takes his pills in a holy ceremony in the morning. His hands shake. He makes it home by mid-day. Realizes that nothing has been touched.

_No one’s been here._

 

 

**Bruce**

Jason coming to dinner had been nice. Alfred had told him two hours before dinner to expect Jason. The look his father figure had given him was that of warning. He wanted this day to go well. He wouldn’t stand for any mess ups.

“I’ve just about had it with your way of handling things, Master Bruce. I advise that from here on out, I conduct all interactions with Master Jason.” Bruce could only nod his head. He’s about had it with his ways of dealing with things as well.

If the screaming match he had with Dick a few months ago meant anything, he understood now that Nightwing is the only one allowed to deal with the Red Hood. If any of the other whether that be Oracle or red robin desired to contact Red Hood, they needed the approval of Nightwing. Approval he's consistently declining. Batman, wasn’t aloud contact with the Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, wasn’t aloud contact with Jason Todd.

Dinner had been great, He hadn’t expected everyone to show up. Even Kate and Stephanie showed. Alfred must have used one hell of a guilt trip to get everyone to behave so well. Well almost everyone. By the way, Damian was sulking in the library Alfred must have shown his disapproval of the young boy’s actions. Bruce was surprised to see how well Jason reacted to Damián’s goading, he didn’t even seem angry, just ready to leave.

Did it hurt that Jason only wanted to leave, yes, yes it definitely hurt. Was he so thankful for Duke that Bruce could kiss the boy for it, yes, yes he could.

He’d gotten to hear Jason again. The Jason he had lost so many years ago. He was able to see his boy eat and drink in his home for the first time in ages. Bruce had even gotten to learn more about his son. Carpentry of all the hobbies? When had that started? Could he commission Jason for a dinner table? Would he ever get to see the works he’d discussed with Duke? Bruce wanted to, he wants to see things his Jay-lad makes with his hands and not with his fists. The look on Alfred’s face mirrored his own he was sure.

Dick has informed them that in four weeks he's got a meeting set up with Jason. The rest of them where to be gone from Gotham or at the manor when the day came. If anyone was caught snooping around there would be a literal hell to pay. He gave Bruce a pointed look. Maybe there would be another dinner out of it? Duke could ask Jason more questions, Bruce could learn something more about Jason, maybe music his son liked or another hobby.

Bruce could learn to talk to Jason. With Dick and Alfred, he was sure that his wayward son would come around again. He just had to wait.

 

**Three months later**

Jason comes around for dinner on a Sunday night. He sits next to Duke and is placed as far away from Bruce and Damian as is physically possible. He still doesn’t initiate any conversation but is more willing to engage in conversation with Duke. Today they are talking about raccoons, did Bruce mention how much he valued Duke? The topic engaged Damian enough to the point that the boy didn’t even sneer when Jason mentioned that he gives a local trash panda a slice of ham, every once in a while.

“Raccoons shouldn’t eat human food Todd, but I suppose its better than nothing.” Jason just nodded, but never directly replied to anything Damian said.

In another world, Bruce might have stood up and sat by his son, asked him if he’d named the raccoon. If he could meet this mangy animal. He’d ruffle Jason’s hair and tell him to get his rabies shot.  But this was not that world. In this world, Bruce had ruined his relationship with Jason, made it so his son hated him. In this world, Bruce would take what he could get. Just to be in the same room as his son, seeing him without having to worry about an explosive argument soothed Bruce’s heart. His family was whole for a bit. He had no right to ask for more.  

 He listened instead to that clipped voice explain how the animal had literally fallen on his head one day when he was on patrol. How he thought he was under attack and tripped over dumpsters when trying to get it off his head. How the little guy had friends the size of a dog and are fearless in their ambush of him. That part had Dick laughing, the image of the Red hood being chased out of an alley by a pack of gangster rodents.

“Do you go back there?”

“Me? Nu-I know when I’m beat. They ‘an ‘ave that alley.”

“What alley is this? I want to challenge those guys for dominance!” Stephanie had said around a mouth full of spaghetti. It was one of Jason’s favorite dishes when he lived here.

“TT fat girl, you could never manage to take down a well-established some of raccoons. That would require skill.” Never to skip a chance, Stephanie pounds her fist playfully on the kitchen table.

“Tell me where it’s at Jason! I’m going to take them all down, steal the children and burn the dumpsters down!”

“You’re a real tyrant Steph.” Tim’s smirk grated Damian.

Suddenly the table erupted in chatter, Bruce’s children taking sides on the matter. Damian unsurprisingly was for leaving the raccoons alone.

“They’ve won the territory fair and square.”

“That’s because they haven’t dealt with a real threat!”

Chancing another look towards Jason, Bruce realized that the young man had filled his plate up again. Frowning Bruce memory took him back to a young Jason stuffing his face till he puked, hiding food in his bedroom. Was he not eating well? There was the faintest tremor to Jason’s hand, so faint that if his son jaw wasn’t clenched so tightly Bruce wouldn’t have noticed it. Alfred and he shared a look. The butler clearly remembering the same things Bruce was. Bruce would make sure Alfred made Jason take some leftovers home.

“I will train them myself If I must!”

“I’ll make alliances with the rats and crows, pit the communities against each other.”

“You have no idea how animals work fat girl!”

“Divide and conquer!”

Dinner ended far to quick for Bruce’s taste, Jason was gone before dessert. He didn’t take any food home.

 

**Jason**

The second dinner hadn’t been so bad. It had taken a month of therapy and several phone conversations with Dick, for Jason to finally agree in going. His phone calls with Dick where weird to say the least. It mostly consisted of Dick rambling and Jason chewing his lip. Times like those Jason wished for old Jason to show up and cus Dick off. New drugged up Jason was quite and boring.

He was thankful for having been placed next to Duke again. The guy was funny, and Jason hadn’t done anything to him that would cause the boy to hate him. He hoped to at least have a civil conversation with the new people in the Bat-clan. The others, well, he’d keep his distance. Dr. H said that it was best to tackle it one person at a time. Start with the least stressful people and make his way up to the mentally damaging skull crushing ex-parent. Then when he unpacked everything, he could cut them out cleanly from his life, no regrets.       

He invited Roy the other week and the redhead ooed and awd at Jason’s home. He hadn’t told anyone about his big purchase (since he figured he’d burn it down within 2 months) but it's going to be nine months now and he wants to show someone his hard work. Roy’s open admiration of his home put Jason in a good enough mood to cook the older man a meal. Roy laughed and named Jason a house husband in the making, then called dibs tdownstairsirs bedroom. Jason didn’t mind. He felt sad when Roy had finally gone back to star city, but Jason knew that the Oliver, Dinah and the rest of the Star City cape family where making a huge effort in mending the relationship between Roy and Oliver. He was happy if not a little bitter towards his friend.

“ _Ollie and I are going to family therapy. I think we can make this work.”_ Good, Roy deserved it. He was clean now for whole 2 years. If Oliver couldn’t celebrate his son accomplishment, then there was a bedroom in Jason’s home for Roy. He made sure Roy knew that before he left. Both pointedly ignoring the watery eyes the jokester had when leaving.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

It was Friday night and he’d gone out clubbing. His buddy Luke went home with a girl and Jared bid Jason an early good night, with the excuse of having an early family event the next day. Jason didn’t mind, he’d gotten comfortable enough that hanging out at the bar alone wasn’t such a huge feat. He let the base of the song playing lull him into peace as he slowly drank his cocktail. Maybe he should turn in early too? It was only 10 pm if he headed home now, he could catch a few hours of sleep before heading out for a quick patrol. The Red Hood operated in the witching hour nowadays, from 12 am to 4 pm. He could maybe even slip in a day shift. Scare the hell out of drug peddlers down by the docks. Reaching into his pocket Jason dropped a few dollar bills as the tip and headed out.

It was Saturday night when He decided he needed to restructure his gang. He was still a drug lord and he didn’t like the idea of letting any of his men get comfortable for too long.  Come tomorrow there would be hell to pay for any slip up he found. He’d gone over the books and there were a few hundred dollars missing. Chump change, but it’s the principle that counts.

The criminal underworld had learned that Red hood wasn’t killing due to Batman, but he sure as hell is maiming, torturing, chocking, terrorizing, paralyzing, and emotionally decapitating anyone that felt particularly brave. And it worked. Turns out people are just as afraid of being crippled as they are of dying. Jason liked to joke about his stockpile of arms in his basement.

By Monday, Jason came to the realization that he needed to make things work with the Bats, to a point that they’d get used to him and not constantly watch him. After that happened, he’d slowly phase out of having contact with them. That way he’d be able to live his life in peace and happiness. He’ll play by Dicks rules and attend dinners ones a month, he’d even assigned a purple sticker to the occasion. He could make this work.                     

And it was working the months flew by, after Christmas dinner, Jason started declining Dicks invitations. He was busy with the Outlaws, he was doing an early patrol, yadda yadda yadda. Dick didn’t seem too peeved, he was busy too. Alfred on the other hand, he was a hard one to say no to. If Jason said no to a ‘family’ dinner (he knows that it’s only that well attended because they’re there to watch him, like he’s some kind of zoo animal) then the butler insisted on lunch, breakfast, tea, a picknick in the sunroom. Jason couldn’t flat out refuse and stop going altogether, that would be suspicious. So, he agreed to show up for breakfast a few times and tea time ones. He’d have to stretch out the interactions with Alfred enough to not seem obvious in what he was trying to do.

The problem with excepting breakfast or tea time was that it was far emptier at the Wayne table. Duke didn’t eat breakfast, and no one was around during tea time but Alfred, Bruce and Damian. To say it was awkward would be an understatement. The conversation normally consisted of two things, Alfred interrogating Jason or Damian interrogating Jason. Both had their merits. Alfred wanted to know about Jason’s day. Damian was demanding for Jason’s personal information. Bruce would say nothing yet seem happy with either.

That left of course Bruce. Outside of the “How are you” question he shoves onto Jason whenever they meet, the man is eerily quiet.  Like he’s just watching Jason, waiting for him to mess up. He probably wanted Jason to say or do something to justify the near-death experience he’d given Jason last year. Well, Bruce could suck it.  Jason was doing fine, great even, he’d passed all his classes this semester! Jason had even printed out his transcripts and hung them on his fridge.

After skipping more dinners and refusing breakfast and tea time for a total of two months.

Both Alfred and Dick had ambushed him on his cell phone. Duke’s birthday was coming up and his presence was necessary at the manor. Which was silly, because Duke probably wanted anything but dinner with weird ass Jason. Jason had all the intention of rejecting the invitation (he’d had lunch at the manner nine weeks ago already) till Duke himself called him.

“Hey man, you mind swinging by this Wednesday for dinner? I know, I know it’s a little corny, but I think it’ll be fun.” That was Duke for you, asking and making sure it was ok in Jason’s terms. “It doesn’t have to be the whole thing, just for a little bit if you’re up to it.” What else could Jason say?

“Yea ok, I’ll be thar’ for ‘ome of it.” 

“Cool,  Er…uh yeah, see you?” Jason laughed, sometimes he forgot how hard it was to understand a lower Gotham accent without being able to lip read.

“Yes, I’ll be going, I can’t promise to stay the whole time.”

“Yeah, of course, man I understand we’ve all got things to do.” And Duke frankly sounded like he would be ok, with whatever Jason decided to do. That’s what Jason liked about the guy, no expectations, he just took whatever was offered and didn’t assume he’d get more.

Damn, now he needed to get a gift. Duke deserved a good gift. Fuck.

Wednesday came quickly and Jason was still burying the limb he hacked off a pedophile when he’d gotten a text from Alfred reminding him dinner started in thirty minutes and informed Jason that no one would eat till he got to the manor. Damn it all.  He sped home in his bike, showered in less than 10 minutes and was out the door with 15 minutes till dinner time.

Twenty minutes later he apologies to Alfred and Duke. Duke laughs it off, says they're still waiting for Kate so he was fine. Reaching into his bag Jason pulled a rectangular box out. He grumbled a happy birthday and pressed the box to Duke's hands. Duke fumbled it a little with his hands out of shock and surprised look on his face was worth the strange exchange between the two.

“Oh man, thanks! You really shouldn’t have.” Jason really hoped that he’d open it when Jason was long gone and out of earshot. He’d never given anyone any of his works outside of Roy and Bizarro. He really didn’t want to know if Duke didn’t like it. Or worse if one of the others laughed about it. It was last minute, Jason had grabbed it from his workbench, switched out some of the cruder nastier parts and put last minute figures to replace what he’d originally made.

“It’s no problem.” He made towards his spot next to Duke's empty chair, hopefully, it would motivate the guy into taking his own seat and forgetting about the gift. Why did Jason even give him a gift? Why did he always make things worse? Fuck!

Duke sits down next, to Jason’s horror he still got the box in his hands.

“You know this is the only gift I got this year.”

“oh yeah?” Jason feels like fainting, why was this turning into a big deal? He’d thought originally that his gift would be placed, undoubtedly in Jason’s mind, on top of a heap of expensive gifts, cards and well wishes. His wooden box forgotten.

“Yeah” Duke drops his voice leans in “Rich guys here buy me gifts throughout the year, had to tell them to give me break you know” And Jason does know, the first time he’d gotten gift more expensive than twenty dollars had given Jason so much anxiety that he was afraid to read the book in fear of ruining it. It had taken Bruce days to convince Jason that it was ok for him to own something brand new, and it was a gift, so Jason would never have to pay Bruce back. “I just asked for my favorite dish and for everyone to show up for dinner. That way I don’t have to feel so awkward about it.”

“oh, ya want me ta ungift your present?” _please say yes_

“Noooo way, you made this yourself, right?” Jason nodded stiffly, Kate was still not here, people are staring. It was never a good idea to whisper in the manor, it made trained ears perk up. It would have been better if Duke had just shouted. To make things worse Duke (clearly not as smart as Jason had previously thought) tried to keep the box half hidden under the table. “Dude, a homemade gift, didn’t think I’d ever get another one of those again.” His eyes are tight and the smile he sends Jason, makes Jason want to hide under the table.

Dick picks this moment to make his presence known from across the table. Large puppy eyes staring right at the box.

“you made Duke something? Don’t I get something little wing?” _no, fuck no, go to hell, Dick face._

“What is it, I would like to see.” Cassandra apparently not caring anymore to keep her eavesdropping a secret, speaks up. Jason did not flinch.

Tim was now trying to look over the table.

Kate walks in and for a minute the attention is diverted with Barbara and Stephanie teasing her on being late in coming out. Shortly after Alfred walks in with trays and his customary greetings. Everyone took their assigned seats. And for all of ten blissful minutes, the group eats and doesn’t talk.

“Todd, what have you made for Duke?” figures that the youngest of the group would be too curious to hold it together.

“I want - see.” Cassandra repeats this time with a little exasperation in her voice.  

Instead of answering Jason stuffs another mouthful of meatloaf into his mouth. Duke looks to be as uncomfortable as he does and keeps the box on his lap and halfway under the table, one hand struggling to hold it place while he ate with his unused hand, pretending that nothing was there.

Barbara is looking at him through her peripherals, he feels it. It’s so silent and awkward.

This time, with more force and determination Cassandra speaks up

“I want - see brother’s gift?” Why was Jason alive again?

Duke bumps his leg against Jason’s, causing shivers to run up and down Jason’s body.

Slowly Duke pushes his half-eaten plate away from him. Sends Alfred and apologetic look and brings the wooden box from its hiding place (if it could have ever been called that).

“I’m not actually sure, I haven’t had a chance to open it. Figured maybe later on tonight, since we’re eating dinner now.” Jason held back a sigh, this guy is officially off his smart people list. Why didn’t he just go ahead and say how it was a ‘private thing’ or a ‘secret’ while he was at it. Then maybe he’d understand what that did to people living in the manor.

“Well you have it now, might as well open it.” Dicks mutters bitterly, Jason wonders if Dicks upset with not being stubborn enough to bring a gift anyway. _The golden boy always did hate missing an opportunity to be special._

“Uh, ok.” Duke looks at Jason, Jason just shrugs. It’s Duke’s now, he can do whatever the hell he wants with it. “How’s this thing even open?”

“TT Thomas, theirs a latch on the side, unhinge it.” Duke nods, Jason wishes he’d just given him a card. The Latch is pulled, and the box splits open the middle. Somewhere above the buzzing in Jason’s ears, he hears Steph making an oooo sound.  Carefully Duke slides the cover open. Now Jason is watching Duke, he’ll just laugh off the impending disappointment.

“Dude? Did you really make these, they’re really great?”

“Yea’, I’m glad ya like it.” it’s strange but for a moment it feels like Jason did something right.

“I want to see-gift.” Cassandra stands up outstretches her hand and does a grabby motion. Duke laughs and reaches into the now open box and pulls a small figure out. Hands it over to Cassandra

“It’s a chess set, it’s got all of us as pieces.” Duke pulls out each piece, miniature Batwoman, Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin, Bat Girl, Black Bat, Batman, and the Signal. Batman was king (because he’s a controlling asshole), Nightwing and Batwoman as knights, red robin and signal are the rooks, black bat and Batgirl are bishops. The queen was Gotham’s famous clock tower with a small Damian’s Robin perched on the roof ready to take flight, the windows of the tower painted yellow to show that it was not empty. The Pawns where miniature GCPD cops, one clearly looked like Commissioner Gordon.

Duke pulled more out, the other set where the members of the rough gallery (not with the joker, Jason did not carve him ever). Major Crime bosses as the pawns. The Queen was represented by Arkhams infamous dark tower. The board was kept is traditional shape, but between each carefully carved block, alleyways with dumpsters and clotheslines could be seen. It was 3-D effect Jason had really started liking when Roy complemented a similar piece months ago.

“Dude this is awesome, did you make this in three days?”

“Uh na, I’ve got similar boards at ‘ome, it’s a game the Outlaws play, I picked one that fits your life and filled in the blanks.”

“A game?”

“yea’, it was Roy’s idea. I make pieces an’ well then - we play ‘em.” For therapy. Jason likes making Little Green arrows and few tiny Batman that Roy blows up on New Year’s.

“So, you have all these chess boards at home, you guys mix and match criminals and superheroes?”

“Yeah”

“That’s pretty creative.” Duke beams at him, starts passing figures around for the rest to see. “Thanks for the gift, Jason!”

“Yea’, anytime.”

“Little wing these are wonderful!”

“Mine is the best.”

“Todd, I appreciate your knowledge of my rightful place.”

“Think again Damian.” Tim smirked, Barbara sends Jason a soft smile.

“Why do I look lost?”

“That’s because you are lost, Fat Girl”

Jason doesn’t notice, but at the head of the table Bruce holds a small batman and traces his fingers against the polished wood.

“Master Jason, these are indeed wonderful, never would I have thought such detail be given to a chess board.”

Jason wants to show Alfred the ones at home of the Outlaws and their advisories. Now those he would feel more comfortable showing off. The work and detail he put in them deserved to be shown off. Duke's gift was not his best work.  Had Jason known this would happen-he wouldn’t have given the man anything.

“Jason, shouldn’t you be represented on this board?” Kate’s the one that says that, but Jason feels like Barbara said it. To be honest the original board does have the Red Hood, as the board design. His gun drawn to both sides. There was also one with him on the other side of them, guns are drawn and he's angry. There’s one of him and his allies versus the bats, another of all the forms of Jason from street kid to the present Red hood vs all of them. He made of a board of all miniature Jasons vs all red hoods. Those boards he wouldn’t be showing them.

“I’m on the boards with Artemis and Roy.” There’s a lingering silence before Stephanie demands Jason redo hers.

“I should be the one jumping from the tower, not Damian!”

“With your weight the tower would collapse, killing Oracle and dooming us.”

Jason continued to eat, he watched Duke demand everyone to give the pieces back.

“How about I give you this piece of candy in my pocket in exchange for mini-me?”

“Fat chance Dick, hand it over!”

“Little wing! Make me something next!” Jason would rather eat his own tongue.

“No”

“Wha-why not?” Dick clutches his miniature night wing close his chest, there’s a look in his face Jason doesn’t understand. The look Dick sends Duke on the other hand…

“I believe Master Jason is probably too busy to go about sculping these whenever, he mentioned that he pulled this one off  from existing boards, due to time constraints.” Jason ducked, figures Alfred would chastise him for ruining sets of things. “I would surely like to see the rightful boards these guys belong to sometime Master Jason.”

“uh, most of them are stand-alone, I keep the same color scheme so it’s not like I’ve broken up a small family.” Alfred is still looking at him “Black bat is from another set” Jason was not sulking

“I don’t mind man, I think they’re cool!” Duke bumped Jason leg again.

“Perhaps in the next dinner, you will show me the other set, Master Jason?”

Jason wouldn’t, this was the only remotely Bat friendly set he had. He loved Alfred, but he wasn't going to carve work for the man. 


	3. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. H isn't nice, and neither is Jason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys, I'm very nervous about this chapter because I'm trying to explain how a meltdown may be without making it sound cheesy or romantic. Let me know if I missed the mark. Also, this is officially the last chapter I've got written, which doesn't normally fair well when it comes to my completion of fics.

**Bruce**

Bruce knows himself to be a jealous man. Not of things, he was a possibly the richest man alive, he was a jealous man when it came his important people. Losing his parents had made the people in his life more valuable than all the riches in the world. His family is everything to Bruce, he’d never trade them in for anything.

Like the selfish man that he was, he didn’t share them either. He did not like it when others took his spot in his family or worse, took members of his family away from him. It’s the reason Clark stopped inviting Dick to missions, and Diana kept her distance when a young Jason confessed his undying admiration for the Amazon. His two close friends understood Bruce and what his jealousy could make him do, and more importantly, they understood what would be the fallout, if they did try to take what is his.  

It’s why Bruce wasn’t a fan of the Titans, Young Justice, and now the Outlaws. He understood the importance of friends, he just wished his children understood why family was more important. There was a line there, Bruce didn’t want any of his children to cross.

His jealous nature stretched even further, made him value all interactions between him and his children, making him increasingly paranoid about his children’s interactions with outsiders.

He hated that Jason didn’t add himself on the chess board, there was room. He could have made Cass and Steph share a slot, there was room on the watch tower next to Damian. Batman wouldn’t mind sharing a spot with the Red Hood.

Bruce didn’t like the implications of the Red Hood not being in the same chessboard as the bats. Yes, Bruce had taken the bat symbol from Jason. But it wouldn’t be the first time Jason went against Bruce’s wishes. Why stop now?

Over the years, Bruce has become rather sentimental, he hoards all the gifts given to him by his children. He even kept the gifts his children gave to each other. For safekeeping - so it wouldn’t get lost.

 Drawing given to Dick by Damian found themselves carefully placed in Bruce’s personal albums. Tim’s thank you notes to Dick, Dicks love notes to Barbara, birthday cards, holiday cards, Cassandra first written letter, Kate’s lipstick-stained napkin she gave to the woman Bruce wished didn’t exist. Duke and Stephanie’s ‘rap’ song they were going to make it big with. Little nick-nack and snapped pictures of moments Bruce would hold close to his heart for eternity.

The dark part of him, the part he was ashamed of, wanted to take Duke’s gift as his own. It’s not that Duke didn’t appreciate it; the boy did. The chess set (homemade for Christ sake!) would be simply better valued in Bruce’s study. 

He coveted the gift before it had been opened, ones it was he yearned to take it, each piece was perfect in Bruce’s eyes. Tiny figures of his most precious people made by the son he could never do right by.

Alfred looked to think the same, seeing as he was able to convince Jason to bring more of his work next time. And there would be the next time, Bruce needed there to be.

These dinners happen every two months or so now, and he knows that Jason is trying to make them less frequent. Bruce will take what Jason is willing to give, if Jason could see how much he cares for him, then maybe Bruce could get another chance.

It’s the reason they’ve fallen into the most awkward routine of Bruce’s life.

“How are you, Jason?” He’d ask every time he got his sons attention,  Jason’s answer would be ‘great’ as always and then his wonderful beautiful son, that never looked at Bruce during dinner, would excuse himself and leave.

“Great” Jason mumbles, he looks Bruce in the eyes this time. Bruce can see Jason’s eyes are grayer then green, they haven’t been that way since before Jason had died.  He’s chanced a look at Jason as a whole, he looks good. Really, not skinny, not worn, good. Jason looked like any common twenty-year-old. Except for perhaps the 6’ 3” muscular built of a trained assassin. Jason was now only slightly taller than Bruce, which sent a feeling pride and regret; he’d missed Jason growing up.

“That’s, good.” Bruce needed to in role himself in Stephanie’s public speaking class. Cause he wasn’t doing himself any favors here.

“I’m leaving now.”

“You don’t have to.” If it wouldn’t lead to a full-out brawl, Bruce would have put a hand on his son’s shoulder to emphasize his desire to keep Jason home.

“I want to.” Jason moved passed him, keeping his body away as much possible without plastering himself against the wall. Bruce sighs when he hears the back door click shut after Jason.  If Bruce wasn’t Batman, he would have missed hearing his youngest son sneaking in.

“Damian?”

“It’s Bat-cow’s birthday next week father, I can ask Todd to come to the celebration.” Bruce looked down at his youngest, Damian’s face serious in his statement. He tried not to smile at Damian, sometimes his ex-assassin of a son was far too cute.

“Thank you, Damian, perhaps Jason may bring a gift.”  Gently he ruffled his son’s hair, trying not to chuckle at how Damian leaned into the touch.

**Jason**

Laying down wasn't something Dr. H let Jason do, during their sessions. It weird and outdated, and it makes the patient feel like they're here to relax. Therapy according to her, is about pulling the layers back to see the root of the problem, there is nothing relaxing about that, so why pretend?

 

Which is why her office if you call it that, is shaped very much like the meeting room for a business. One large desk and very stiff uncomfortable chairs, located in the basement of a butcher shop Jason pay for their silence.

“This is serious work Jason, it should be treated as such”

 

It speaks volumes of how things have gotten out there if Harley Quinn is the voice of reason.

 

Jason didn't mind sitting, it made it easier to get up and run. Something he thinks will come in handy today.

“I'm enjoying myself,...is that bad?”

 

“No, sometimes the crazy thing to do - is the best thing to do” maybe having Harley as his therapist wasn’t the smartest move he’d make it his life, trusting the ex-lover of your murderer had to be on the top ten worse decisions list, right under the condom-shaped red helmet but somewhere above green pixy boots.

“I want to hate these dinners, I want to hate being there.” He wants to hate them .

 

“Why don't you?” She crosses her legs, one hand smooths out the wrinkles on her ACDC shirt. Her makeup as usual barely present and mostly smeared.  

 

“Isn't that what you're supposed to tell me?”

 

“Well, if you want to know what I think, I think you're human and therefore prone to loneliness.”

 

“I've got friends and a life. Shouldn't that be enough?” She lets out a long-winded breath, her way of telling Jason he’s stupid.

 

“Let's talk about Tim, Jason. Last time you mentioned guilt”

 

“Tim? I thought we're here to talk about my loneliness?”

 

The blond leveled him with her best aloof glare.

_I'm taking orders from Joker's ex-girlfriend - what the hell is happening to my life?_

“Yeah, I've been mulling over the fact that I tried to kill him, and I shot Damian.” He didn’t actually want to kill Damian, hell he’d help bring the kids back to life.

“Do you think that's because of the pit or because that's who you are?”

He knew what he wanted to say, what he hoped was true. It was the Lazarus Pit, he really wished that answer would come naturally to him. But he knew that wouldn't be complete truth, madness was not an excuse for an attempt of murder. If he excused his behavior with the Pit, the slippery slope that followed would be way too steep for him to climb back up from. Jason knew he had always had a mean streak, violence in him he wasn't sure if he'd learned it or inherited it.  

“Both?” _that’s a safe answer_

“And do you think you're willing to interact with Bruce after everything, because some part of you feels guilty for hurting Tim?”

Maybe? Tim hadn't deserved to be attacked by Jason, he was just another aw struck kid determined to be Batman's new Robin.

“I'm not sure.”

“If you hadn't of died, what do you think would have happened?”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't like living on the what-ifs, but he knew deep in heart what would have happened if he'd lived. If he hadn’t gone after the Joker or Batman had saved him.

“I would have been replaced, like Dick, like Tim, even special love child Damian.”

“Would you have still tried to kill him?”

“I'm not sure.” He's sure it would have felt like dying, seeing him be replaced with an upgraded Robin. Having no purpose, being cast out. Worthless.

“Why is that death is your security blanket, Jason?

“Because it's a mercy. Because, death is a commitment, the permanent way of showing how much you valued something.”

He lets his eyes look over her features, Jason’s sure under all that crazy, Harley was a real babe. But right now, she’s a real cunt.

“So by killing Tim, you would prove how valuable Robin is to you?”

“Was to me” Dr. H lips curve slightly, Jason not sure if it's out of humor or sincerity, he doesn't want to know.

“You told me about the universes you visited on the past, the different scenarios. Are you happier in the world that Batman kills?”

“I'm not sure, I didn't meet the Jason's from those world's, I met Bruce.”

“And…”

“ That Bruce wasn't happy, but he loved his Jason.” _Not like the one in this world_

“If you killed Tim, do you think you'd be happy?”

Jason sighs, he wasn't going around circles again, he didn't know what Harley wanted from him, whatever it was, he wasn't offering it.

“I'm not asking Bruce to turn into the killer the other Bruce was, I just want him to kill him, just him. For me.” why is it no one else can see this?

“Because it would prove that he loves you?”

“Yes!” Why was she always asking this?

“Because it proves there's a commitment to that love, and mercy, to you.?”

“Yes.”

“How is it mercy?” her lips stretched into a queer smile

“When people die-you can image the best version of them” **A good soldier** “You end up loving a version of them, that may not have been real, if Bruce had killed the clown, if he’d picked me instead of him,-then-that meant-”

“He loved you, for you, all your flaws couldn’t trump that, you wanted him to give you mercy.” Yes, yes, god yes, Jason wanted someone to finally give him a  break.

“Yea’, I wanted him - to save me.” not the Joker, not Shiela, not Dick, not Tim, no one else - just him. _wasn't he worth saving?_

“So did you shoot the penguin because of love, commitment, or mercy, for Willis?” Jason shoots up from his seat and nearly lunges across the table.

“What game are playing!?!” If he didn't like Dr. H so much he'd of strangled her for that.

“No games, I'm just trying to understand you. You think killing is the only way to prove your love, you kill harden criminals for your love of Gotham, you tried to kill Tim because of your love for Robin, you want Batman to kill joker to prove his love for you, and you shot Penguin because you love Willis.”

His fist shake, he sits down again. If she wanted to play a game with him, she had another thing coming.

“I don't love Willis.”

“Probably not, but you love the Willis that could have loved you.”

“No.” was he whispering?

“Just like you love the Catherine that loved you.”

Jason was really regretting talking about his mother with Harley. He hadn't meant to, but after Roy had left clean and sober with so much promise in his future, Jason had vented to Dr. H, screamed about how unfair it was that Catherine had never put that amount of effort, that amount of commitment - for him. She’d never given Jason any mercy,  even if he wasn't biologically hers, she'd called him baby, and he'd called her mommy.

And she died, leaving him all alone.

“I love my mom because she loved me in the best way she could.” He needed to believe that “ I shot penguin because maybe if Willis had lived, she'd still be around.” Catharine would have had time to get clean, why could he feel Roy’s sad smile?

“Jason, I loved Mr. Jay, cause I thought his love was the only one I understood, but it wasn't” He hated it when Harley brought _him_ up, even if he knew how much she hated him as well, Jason hates that the both of them share someone in common.

“Stop, I'm done for today” he gets up, his legs feel stiff and he's tired, so so tired. Dr. H, never lets Jason shut her up, it’s who she is, it’s why he trusts her. She’s honest and never takes his shit.

“I know what your love is Jason.”

His heads light, his throat feels narrow. He should leave, he should run. He doesn't, he want to know what his love is too.

“Jason, in another world you're enough for Sheila.” _what the hell is she getting at?_

“What are you ta-”

“In another world, you’re enough for Willis.” _This bitch can go marry his corps if she’s so set in talking about him._

“I'm not talkin’ 'bout that piece of shite!”

“In another world, you're enough for Catherine” _No, she can’t mean it_

“Dr...stop”

Jason isn’t ready for this, he can’t go down this line of thinking, he shouldn’t have come, Harley shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“In another world, you are enough for Bruce.”

“I can't-b” Jason, in his mind is screaming, roaring into the concrete walls, he isn’t pathetically panicking, he isn't supposed to be like this.

“And enough for Talia”

“ ‘ease.” Jason's whole body shakes, his face is contorted but he doesn't sob, street kids don't sob. Jason Todd doesn’t crumble like a child, he doesn’t break from poorly strung words, coming out of the mouth of a sociopath.  

“And in another world, one that you would never have thought of visiting, you are enough for you, Jason.”

He wants to flip the table over, bash Dr. H’s head into the cold floor, he wants to, but he won’t let himself. He’s isn’t that Jason anymore.

Harley sits there and watches him gasp for breath, eye clenched shut as he desperately fights for control. It was cruel that she'd done this to him, she knew that he knows that too. It's the reason he likes her, Dr. H doesn't see his condition as something to pity, a reason to baby him. The world was a terrible place that didn't owe anyone anything, they both know that too. Jason had never been afraid of pain, Harley had never felt guilty for giving it, neither of them could pretend to be anything other than themselves.

As her crazy eyes watch him, with no glint of worry or concern. The doctor contemplates the world where her daughter is enough for her.

**Later**

He didn't like what Dr. H had hinted at. He didn't want to believe that his and Bruce's relationship was similar to the relationship Jason had with Willis, yet.

Did he love Willis? Is that even possible for Jason? Or is the love given to him by Willis and Catherine the reason his relationship with Bruce, is the way it is? Is pain the only way he knows how to have love? Is all this his fault? Did this mean that he wasn’t capable of having real meaningful relationships?

Had Bruce ever loved him? Had his mom?

He’d walked all day, after he’d gotten himself together, leaving Dr. H who was busy staring into the wall. Jason wasn’t in the right mind to make sure she was ok. The night turned to day, and he let the days wash past him. He goes on patrol and to school and he keeps putting stickers and notes on his calendar. 

He tells himself it's ok, he's ok. 

 

 

**Batcow’s Birthday Party - JASON**

If Jason wasn’t in such a good mood, he would have shot Nightwing in the face. How dare that blue bitch come all the way from Blood Haven to Jason’s part of Gotham to ask him to attend the birthday party of damn muse er-cow.  Not only that, Dick bleeding-heart-Grayson had gone on about how Damian didn’t have enough friends, and that the poor kid didn’t know how to properly express his emotions blah-blah-blah and that the cow’s birthday was really an excuse for Damian to obtain attention from Bruce yadda-yadda-yadda. Dick-head had even gone ahead and mentioned that perhaps Jason could even bring the beast a gift!

Which is why, Jason is in the driveway of a very packed Wayne Manor, Alfred ushering him in.

“Master Jason, it is great to see you’ve made it.” the butler kept his body slightly angled behind Jason to usher him in. “The party is in the sunroom.”

“You’ve let the cow in the manor Alfred?” Jason could have laughed at the butlers twitching mustache.

“Indeed, I have, perhaps age has made me more forgiving?”

If Jason wasn’t on his meds, on a high swing of his mood, with an A+ from his latest test keeping him afloat, he’d mention that Damian got everything because he’s Bruce’s _real_ son, the son that he’d manipulated Jason for, the son that is the rightful _master_ of the house. But today Jason was on his meds, he was in good mood.

“I can’t stay for more than an hour.” Jason’s got his book club in a few hours, and he’ll be damned before he lets Mrs. McDuff picks the next book! He’s not reading Twilight, that can’t possibly be the choice over Jane Eyre.

“Yes, of course, I understand how life can be so busy.” Jason chose to ignore the disappointed look on the old man's face.

They made it to the large sunroom, the party was in full swing. Cass was dancing with Dick if one could call each trying to out flip each other dancing. Tim was cheering them both on alongside one of the supers (Jason can’t place his name), Stephanie was clearly trying to get on the cow, while Damian threatened to behead her if she so much as looked at Bat-cow the wrong way. Kate, Barbara, and Bruce seemed to be having a nice talk if Kate’s smile was anything to go by.

“Dude, twice in one month! It’s like a spring miracle!” Jason heard more than felt Duke's clap on his back. “Come on, let's go get a drink.” Jason tried not to hide behind Duke, he wasn’t scared or anything. Jason has just expected it to be a birthday dinner, not an actual party where Jason couldn’t busy himself eating and limiting his contact with people around a table. This was a whole other beast, he felt incredibly bare in his jeans and t-shirt. 

For Alfred’s sake, he’d always made sure to cover up, today he figured showing a little skin wouldn’t be bad, if he just sat down fast enough there wouldn’t be much to stare at. Well-fuck. He couldn’t exactly run back to the entrance and put his leather coat back on, it would draw way too much attention to him.

He followed Duke to the table where all the food and drinks where located, Alfred was busy informing Bruce and the rest of his presence. The traitor. He wasn’t surprised to see Barbara making her way to him, her strong arms making her wheelchair look like it glided across the wooden floors. Jason now realized why the party was being held inside, the garden would be hard for even the former Batgirl to be able to maneuver properly without help. 

“So, what have you brought the cow?” the woman voice asked.

“This.” He throws a box at her, she catches it expertly. With one elegant eyebrow arches, she opens the box, not caring that the gift isn’t meant for her. She pulls out a cow size sweater.

“Is knitting another hobby of yours?” she seems genuinely curious like she wouldn’t image Jason getting a gag gift. This made things difficult, Jason was hoping for laughter from his gift not a serious contemplation.

“Uh, no-it’s a sweater… for a cow.” Her eyes finally seemed to understand, her laughter came as a relief to Jason. He was about to explain that his friend knitted it for her husband, but the dimensions were completely wrong, so instead of throwing it away Jason asked for it. When demon spawn showed up and snatched it from Barbara’s hands.

“I suppose this will do, TT bat cow looks better in Black Todd, but Grey will have to do.” He’s gone before Jason can say your welcome.

 “Man, if _my_ mom ever saw me take a gift like that” Duke whistles “I’d be tanning out front.”

And that statement, made Jason lose it. He laughed, he truly did, because Talia would never have let _Jason_ be that ungrateful without flogging him first, Damian would have been punished way worse. The fact that Damian was acting this way proved to some level what Dick has said, Damian really is just trying to get his daddy’s attention.  True enough across the room, Bruce is giving Damian talking to. Jason ignored the ache he felt across his chest.

Duke falls into laughter too, Barbara pretends she’s coughing into her hand.

“My father would have me picking leaves outside with a toothpick.”

“Oh yeah, my mom would have made me go outside and dry snow with a paper towel-after-she whooped my ass!” Stephanie somehow joined the conversation, the four of them broke down into laughter.

Jason didn’t have anything to say, Willis would hit him regardless of how he excepted a gift, Catharine wasn’t really around for discipline, Bruce- well who cares anyway? He wasn’t here to think about his last session with Dr. H. He was here to-, what was it that his therapist said? Oh, yeah-fulfill basic loneliness needs, something like that. Jason didn’t care, he just wanted to get on the Bat’s good side to get them off his back.

The group managed to fall into some semblance of peace, talking about sports and traffic. Stephanie had apparently takin out a fence while driving home yesterday. Barbara confessed that she’s the one that knocked down the ‘children at play’ sign near Gotham high school last month, and Jason told them of how he had to push his bike three miles to the nearest gas station after he’d come home from Duke’s birthday dinner. Duke shook his head at their stories, he had apparently never even been pulled over. Barbara flashed him a wicked smirk saying how she could grace Duke with such an experience if he wanted.

 It was going great, till Dick and Tim joined.

Jason would have to be honest, he was almost as mad with those two as he was with Bruce. He’d worked the most with them and had in his opinion formed real coalitions with Tim and Dick. When Bruce had pummeled him, some part of him really thought Tim would have shown up, or Jason would at the very least get a phone call from Dick.  Nothing. Jason now thought himself naive to think that both former Robins had forgiven him for nearly killing Tim when he was still Robin. Jason didn’t want to drop his guard around the two ever again, it was no wonder Damian was constantly trying to break the two apart, Tim and Dick were always going to be a team, they had very little room for Damian least of all Jason.

“What’s so funny guys?” Dick was practically bouncing on his toes, desperate to obtain the group's attention.

“Oh nothing, we’re talking about how bad we all are at driving.”

“We? You mean you three!” Duke laughs and drapes an arm around Jason’s shoulders bringing their bodies closer. “Right Jay? I’m a perfect driver, unlike you making rookie mustaches!”

Could Duke tell how nervous Jason was around Dick and Tim? Or was he normally this friendly? Either way, he was thankful for the protective gestor. Duke was nearly Jason’s height with the potential of being larger given some more time, Jason looped his arm under the man and grasped his friends’ shoulder in return.

“Rookie mistake? Like ya jumpin’ before shootin’ a grapplin’ hook?”

“Uh what? D-did you see that!” Stephanie and Jason laughed, Duke pitifully chuckled along, clearly embarrassed. Dick wasn’t laughing much, and Tim had a polite smile on his face.

“Please tell me you fell on garbage!” Stephanie’s gasping breaths causing a rather large seen.

“I actually didn’t fall, I landed perfectly thank you very much.”

“Just like I trained you.” Dick says, his megawatt smile blinding everyone there.

“Yep, perfect form, and everything.” Stephanie rolls her eyes and tells them that it would have been better if he’d fallen in the garbage.

Damian had made his way back and grumbled a thank you to Jason. Jason shrugged told the boy he hoped it fit the cow, and no he did not knit it.

Kate, Cass and Bruce joinder the group while Damian went off to explain something to Super kid? (was that a thing now?). The two dropped their arms from each other, while Dick said something funny. Jason tried not to squirm every time eye landed on him, but of course, its Cassandra that says something.

“Tattoo is fun?”

“huh?- oh yea’, uh it was ok.” He looks at his left arm that has gotten the girls attention

“Yeah, I didn’t know you’ve got tats, Jason.” This time it’s Barbara “I especially **appreciate that one.”**

She’s talking about the same one Cass is looking at too, the one that says ‘IF FOUND CALL: (852)- GOFUCKYA’SELF’ the 852 being crime alleys area code. Right under it said ‘RETURN TO: 82096 eny alley will dow’ misspelled according to Bowery accent. The Area code was also that of Gotham’s slum. He’d paid good money for the letters to look just like that hastily painted house numbers found in those areas. His other visible tattoo was a dagger located at the crook of his elbow with JPT written down the hilt.

He wasn’t going to pretend that it was just for aesthetics, the Bats knew what tattoos in those locations insinuated. Each one is placed in areas rarely damaged by gunfire or blades, his tattoos are for identification of his body, in case he ever gets chopped up. It was a very common practice with gang members and crime lords. He had little doubt that these tattoos would be added to whatever file Bruce had in the cave on him. With the way Dicks eyes where shining Jason could bet the first Robin was trying to imagine where else Jason had ID tattoos.

“Oh yea’, got ‘t while back” he didn’t flinch when Cassandra put delicate fingers on the dagger, raising Jason’s arm to her face.

“not cheap.”

“Nope, it’s not.”

“Hurt?”

“No.”

Then, because Dick could never help himself from having physical contact, larger rougher hands reach out to touch where Cassandra has. _What the hell was happening_ , Jason had no idea, when did tracing some one’s tattoo become normal? Both seemed to be completely interested in them. Jason will not be letting them see the rest scattered around his body.

“Sooooo, shall we go talk to Batcow?” Yeah, Duke was ok in Jason’s book.

Jason could do this.

He was ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a cookie for Simonettamoon for guessing it was Harley (good job!), I was originally going to call her DR. Q, but it made me want to switch her out with The Question, someone I think may have been a healthier choice. 
> 
> I wanted to make Harley a good person, but in the end, I want her to still be the Harley we love. 
> 
> Finally, have a wonder filled 2019 you guys, thank you for the comments and kudos!


	4. The Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason still has lessons to learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I really like all the comments I do read them all, Thanks for all the Kudos too! I hope you guys like this one as much as the last. This chapter is Mostly Jason. The next will may Have More Bruce.

It was late one Sunday afternoon when he gets a text from his classmates, they want to join a nonprofit organization that will help update the existing public housing buildings around lower Gotham.

 

A few quick searches, a deep background check, and Jason was on board. It made his heart quicken to think that he could help his community out in this way, he knows how bad lower income housing is, he can still remember shivering next to his mother, on the day's the heating broke and molded insulation did nothing but hurt their lungs. The company was called 'Gothamites for Gotham’ GG for short. Started by a handful of retired firefighter and small local business owners, it's taken them well over a decade to save enough money and get the permit from the state and the city to start the work.

 

GG would be relying on mostly volunteer work. Rather unfortunate considering how crucial capable workers will determine how well the building holds up, after repairs. Yet, he couldn't hold it against them, if anything he respected them for doing this all on their own, refusing to fundraise in Gotham richer side, ask money from politicians, or even stretch an open palm to WE. This is the Gotham Jason is fighting for.

 

It would be a lot of work, some of these buildings would need to be demolished, but the others, old yet still functioning would need electrical work, ventilation check, new insulation, and plumbing.  Some of those apartments may have mold, depending on how far the contamination spread, they would have to condemn the building, regardless of how well everything else looks. The more mundane things would need to addressed as well, peeling paint, broken windows, rusted fences, missing guardrails, graffiti - a shit load of graffiti.  

 

He skipped clubbing to go to the local middle school gym for the first meeting of many, coffee and doughnuts provided. Jason was surprised to find out how many of his professors were volunteers. The amount of classmates, grocery store workers, and waitresses that are there with him. All of them, like him, nervously sipping cheap coffee, while sharing their stories of cold nights, empty refrigerators, leaking windows. For the first time, in a long time, Jason feels like he belongs.

 

His stomach fills with butterflies when he sees his people, fighting tooth and nail, to survive. He spent the rest of the summer surviving alongside them.

 

It's Roy who points out his changes one early morning after a witching hour patrol, the both of them covered in dirt and grime.

 

“Soooo the Red Hood walks hookers home and picks up garbage on the way back from a drug bust, nowadays?”

 

“I guess so.” Jason does his best to ignore his friends beaming smile. He instead busies himself with making breakfast. “Ya goin’ ta sleep, or doya want breakfast?”

 

“Oh Jay! I knew you loved me!”

 

Jason just rolls his eyes but adds two more eggs to the frying pan. He's finally finished his home, after a whole year of living in it. It's strange to him to see how much he's accomplished in a year.

 

“He knows all the homeless people by name too.”

 

“Yep, it's jus’ one of those things.”

 

Roy laughter fills his kitchen, the early morning sun lights the room in a golden hue, his best friend looked to be the happiest Jason had ever seen him, Roy’s freckled face beamed with joy, and glistens from sweat, there’s a cloud of dust that forms with every shake of red hair, like a halo. Today was a good day.

 

On days when Roy leaves, Jason likes to pretend Biz and Artemis will be visiting him, and to be honest he's a bit eager in showing off his home to the Amazon. He knows Biz will be happy with whatever, as long as he gets to roam and do as he pleases the clone was rather easy to please. At least, he was the last time they'd been together.

 

It was hard for him to not look for his friends, he didn't know where to even start. He just had to hope Artemis and Biz would find their own way back. When they did he’d be here waiting, with empty rooms meant for his friends.

 

He'd furnished the room according to what he hoped the two would appreciate. A large Queen size bed for Biz, a separate bathroom with the largest jacuzzi bathtub (definitely not from a Las Vegas Bunny house). A giant table with an up to date computer system. There's even a large window that opens to a small landing platform, big enough for a large man to stand on.

 

Artimus room, he'll admit, was purposely place next to his. Her room was rather basic, a twin bed and a desk. He was working on making her a stand for Mistress.

 

He wondered if she'd approve.

 

Roy, on the other hand, went ahead with calling him Mr. Clean, Red Daddy, and house husband. While he pretended that his own room downstairs was furnished only for himself. It was the only room with its own exit door that leads to the small backyard, perfect for someone that could fly between buildings to land in.

 

It's at this time, that Jason decides to get off his meds. As soon as the fall break rolls in.

 

It's a _medication vacation_ Dr. H had called it, he needed to give his body a break.

 

He trusted Dr. H, so he did get off them, even if Jason couldn't imagine a worse thing to do.

 

Three weeks into the detox and Jason hits a low. A deep one, far worse than anything he'd experienced on medication, and had laughed at the realization that he had lived like that for years, thinking it was normal. How is it that he didn’t realize that he was sick? How is it no one had mentioned to him?

 

As more time passed, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but patrol, he'd managed to call in sick and deflect his friends. He didn't make it to book club and was actively avoiding Roy, He's losing weight. Even with his carefully constructed routine falling around him, that wasn’t the worst thing about getting off his medication, it wasn't the hyper-focused patrolling that made it so he didn't sleep, no the worse thing is the realization of how good he felt.

 

No stomach aches, no nausea, no mysterious aches, and pains. He felt awesome, all his senses are sharper, it's like a fog has been removed like he's awake for the first time in months. It scares him how much he likes being off the medication.

 

He wonders if he really needs the meds, he'd survived without them for so long. He could get off Altogether, he sure that he can. He calls Dr. H to tell her, she laughs at him, Jason breaks his phone and goes out on patrol. He’ll show her, he’s fine, he doesn’t need the pills, he’s overcome it.

 

It’s a few weeks after when Jason is sure that his life is going well, He’s down by the old Red Light District, finishing up patrol, he had expected the emptiness of the street, there aren't hookers at three in the morning. He sure that the sleeping masses of local homeless people are huddled somewhere further down the alley, Mick, Larry, and a skinny guy named Ralf are sure to be right around the corner, who’s to say who else has joined them, he’d check on them next week, Jason’s not a mood to deal with stale breaths. Yet, the street isn’t exactly empty, no, there's one hooker laying out in the middle of the road, she's motionless in a way that lets Jason know she's now a corpse. Had she been dumped after being killed? There’s a part of Jason that knows he should check in on the homeless, ask them what they saw first, and then go check the body out. That way he’d have everyone’s testimony and wouldn’t have to go looking afterward, he could then call the cops, collect evidence from the body and leave. Jason doesn’t do that, he moves closer to the body to get a closer look.

 

She's naked from the waist up, her pale breast sparkled from glitter, long fishnet covered legs spread out against the floor, her feet are bare, he can tell her panties are still there. Which would be odd for a rape. He can't get a good look at her face but knows who it is. He knows all the hookers, if not by name then by basic features. Long dirty blond hair pulls around her head. It’s a popular look for hookers, she’s no different from most whores, yet Jason knows this hooker, he's known her since childhood, she's old, without looking he knows she’s got blue eyes and a mole on her neck, and been in the game longer than Jason's been alive. She use to take drugs with his mother. She use be alive. It's Mabel.

 

He drops down to the street, he's drops the handoff his com that was ready to call the GCPD. Doesn’t notice the flicker street lights, or the fact that Mick calls out his name.

 

He doesn't get a chance to see her closer. doesn't get to have one last look at her weathered face, to remember her stretched out on a ratty couch laughing with Catherine, he didn't get anything before she blows up. He’s blown back from the impact of the explosion, his feet flip from under him, pieces of shrapnel and flesh fly out, something sharp lodges into his shoulder.

 

Within moments Jason is back on his feet, taking cover behind a rusted mailbox, gunfire breaks out from across the street, he draws his own guns starts shooting in return. He's using rubber bullets, which sucks. The old blue metal shielding him rattles and gives way piece by piece.

 

Someone must have been paying attention to his nightly activity, waiting for him to stop by, Jason wondered how long Mabel laid dead for? How long had they been waiting for the Red Hood to show?

 

There's another explosion, he wasn't sure from where rubble and fire seemed to in golf him from every direction. He won't be sticking around to find out what else can explode, he's up running, this is a hit. On him? The Red Hood.

 

_Well must be my special day._

 

The sun peaks from the horizon when he makes it out of that Hell hole, slipped into one of his old safe houses, he's losing blood from a gunshot to his lower left thigh. Desperately he limps his way to the small medical equipment stash he kept there, he grabs some gauze kept the pressure on his leg till blood flow stopped enough for him to dress it, he uses staples to force the wound shut, he let out a ragged breath. He'd nearly died today, guess Penguin is out with a grudge against him and deep pockets. He hadn't expected a coordinated attack of that level. It was by no way sophisticated, it was just everything being thrown at him at ones, with the hopes that it would overwhelm Jason leading to his death.

 

It didn't work

 

He wasn't some low-level thug if anything Jason should feel insulted. The Red Hood deserves at least Deadshot.

 

There’s a lot of things Jason deserves for his recklessness, for not taking his pills and getting arrogant, for walking into a trap. He deserves punishment for failing again, for not checking on Mick and Larry, for not calling the cops the minute he noticed the corpse. Jason might even deserve to be beaten by Batman again, to have a noose around his neck. 

 

He deserved to hear Penguin laughing about surviving, laughing about Jason getting his ass kicked by Batman, laughing about how if it wasn't for the Joker obsession with keeping Batman to himself he'd have gone after the hero (exposing their identities). Penguin laughed at the irony of the Joker saving the Batman's life. Jason could laugh too. He knew his life was a joke.

 

What Jason did not deserve, was that nasally voice telling him that if he wanted to survive he needed to ask Joker for mercy. That the Joker would love to have his Little Dead Bird back.

 

_Fuck that_

 

Jason was going down in a hail of bullets before he ever let himself beg for anything from the Joker. He hadn't begged when he died the first time he wasn't going to beg in the death that followed.

He hated that he couldn't kill, he hated that all he could throw was a few tear gas bombs to make his escape. If he killed now, then Bruce was going to kill him. If he stayed, he died.  Rubber bullets and smoke grenades wouldn't do anything for him. He sees Penguin waddling figure, Jason reach for his pocket knife, breaks the handle of (because Jason’s a mean fucker and can play tricks too) he's got one shot, he aims for the mans face, lets the blade fly true and takes off before his location is ambushed.

 

Ditching the mailbox, he got the hell out of there, he felt the bullet hit his leg, another grazed past his shoulder. His back had taken damage from the all the fire, the ringing in ears from close range explosion impaired his way. Whoever is shooting isn’t aiming, they're just shooting up into the air, keeping everyone away, the few actual snipers seem to be pulling back, there are even more explosions. Madness fills the night, goons are running past a limping Jason with no care, more afraid of something other than him. Jason doesn’t really care, he doesn’t care that there’s quite of few naked men sprinting past him. He’s looking for Mick, Larry and the skinny guy.

 

There’s another explosion, the alley where they should be is suddenly gone, the building collapsing into a burning inferno. Jason runs faster now, he can’t save them, he needs to alert the others who are too scared from moving from their hiding spots. One block down he finds Larry, coughing and stumbling along next to another person - Joy? Jason calls their names out, they look startled to see him, Joy has tears in her eyes.

 

“Follow me, it’s safe this way!” he leads the two down to an open plaza, he leaves them there while go goes look for the skinny guy. Ralph looks more startled to see him, the man's eyebrows are gone and face is completely covered in ash.

 

“Hood? You made it! Mick went back to worn you, did you see him?”  _What? No....NO that can't- no_

 

“Larry is bock at the old town plaza, who else stayed behind?” Jason can’t think about what Ralph just confessed, not now.

“I dunno, we a’w skipped as soon we heard ‘em breakin’ inta buildin’s, som’ wouldn’t move, said they was tired.”

“Ok, I’ll go bock, - check again.” Where should he look? Everything is on fire.

“Mick?” The man ask again, his red eyes look right at Jason's red helmet, there really was no point in hiding the truth, Ralph should find out from Jason and not some tabloid.

“I’m sorry Ralph, I couldn’t save ‘im” _I was reckless and because of me your friend is dead._

The elderly mans face crumbled but he nodded, looked at Jason with bone warriness.

“Thas ok Hood - thas ok - we als gotta go sometime,- ya take care ok, ya make sure ta come bock ?” Ralph continued on his way to the plaza, his shoulder shaking.

  


Now, in the safety of his safe house,he's licking his wounds, he's angry, angry at himself for falling for such an obvious trap, for letting Penguin know his identity, for Mabel and Mick. He should have stayed on his meds, two months without and the world has gone to shit. He shouldn't have used rubber bullets, he should have killed the penguin, at least that way losing to Bruce would have been worth it. Mabel wouldn’t be dead and old red light district would still be around. Ralph would still have Mick. 

It's about an hour of painful self stitching and alcohol swabs when his helmet buzzes. Someone was hacking into it. Well more like Barbara was trying to hack into it.

He's too upset to talk to her, even more so out of control. Reaching into his helmet he switches a button that turns off the entire helmet. No one will track him now, he can't risk anyone finding him like this. With his luck, Bruce will think he's killed people, that _he_ blew up the buildings, that Jason would need another beating.

He finally finished tending to the worse of the wounds, stabilizing the red shrapnel he's sure is part of Mabel skull. He can't make himself remove it, he just stares at what's left of his childhood. Wonders why he never visited her, why he always avoided the woman? For what? A childish grudge? All the months he spend learning people's names, he never called her name out, to afraid of her recognizing him.  He thought about Mick, who risked his life for worthless Jason.

Jason thought about a lot of things, as he sat in the darkness of the whole in walls with a skull shard stuck in his flesh, going over all he had done wrong. So many emotional roil in his mind.

Alone in the dark, Jason lets himself cry, dark bitter tears of resentment.

  


It's two weeks later, he's back on his meds, he struggles to get back on his schedule, the feeling of failure keeps his head down while he works in building B612 plumbing problem, his guilt for what happened to Mabel keeps him away from the rooftops.

It's four weeks since Mabel's murder, and he barely passes his course, he's mostly counting his money and instructing his liatents in keeping business as usual. There's some resistance, but once Jason shows them the money, they back down. Roy refuses to leave him alone. Jason's too ashamed to fight him off.

It's been 6 weeks, he gets a new phone, same number.

It's 7 weeks since Mabel died, he's patrolling again, Penguin is back on Arkham (what's new?) his remaining good eye was apparently stabbed in by shrapnel, the man is blind. There's 20 casualties, mostly Cobblepots men, apparently, they had bombs strapped to them- without themselves or others knowing. Penguin detonate the ones closer to Jason, in hopes of killing the Red Hood, the others though...Mabel, Mick, and a handful unlucky bastards sleeping in the streets that got to die because of Jason's incompetence, barely got a line in the news paper.

It's 8 weeks since Mabel’s death, when Nightwing shows up. He's just standing on one of the many roof tops, muscles coiled like a snake ready to strike. Jason approaches warily, he's not sure if there are more Bats.

Dick waits for him to reach him.

“Are you ok?” The first Robin asks as soon as Jason is within ear shot.

“I'm great” Nightwing pinches his lips for a second before smoothing his mouth out again.

“What happened Jason, I looked everywhere for you! I thought - I kept looking for tattoos- and we-” Dick is crying, Jason feels  numb, Dick staggers to shrink the space between them. He's got a hand on each one of his shoulder, holds Jason there for a moment before crushing his body against Jason, strong arms holding on for dear life. “I didn’t know-”

“If I hadn't missed, he'd be dead and all those people could have been saved.” Everyone would be ok, better even. 

“W-what, Ja- no this, what happened, was completely out of your control, Penguin-” 

“Knows, I can't kill, not unless I want to die.” the man stiffins but is still holding Jason's body. “ I had to run, like a coward, all because I didn't kill him when I should have.”

“Jason” there’s an edge to Dick’s voice that remind him of Bruce.

“It's alright Nightwing, I'm not going to kill anyone, you guys can keep your toys, so you can tell Batman not to kill me.” Jason couldn't die yet, he needed to make things right, he needed to terrorize the rouge gallery enough that they would never come after his people again. He needed their blood to wash away the blood on his hands.

“Ja-Hood lisson, just, ok. - ah -l know that what happened was not your fault,” he steps back to make the two of them lock eyes, domino mask to domino mask “- Batman knows that too.” Carefully Dick releases his hold on Jason, nightwing seems to be trembling under his skin, but Jason just doesn’t care.

“I just wanted to make sure you're alive and okay”

Jason doesn't know what to say, he doesn't have time to play along, he's still in a low, he's so tired.

 

“Okay” Dick's still looking at him, still trying to continue the conversation.

 

“Did-did you get your injuries looked at? Do you mind if I take a look?”

 

“It's been months?”

 

“I still want to make sure.”

 

Jason going to blame it on his guilt, blame it on the low he's on that makes him so needy. Roy's left this morning and Jason is lonely, he thinks he can hear Dr. H laughing. he hates that he wants to say yes. He hates that he wants to be held again.

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“Oh, that's good.” the pair stood in silence for another minute. Before it’s Jason that breaks it up.

 

“I need to go.”

 

“Wait, uh, do you want to hang out for a bit?” the older man has that hopeful look on his face again, the one that he wears when Jason’s having dinner at the manor. “We don’t have to patrol, or even go anywhere, we can sit over there by the edge and-and just-”

 

“I don’t understand you Nightwing, I don’t want to hang out, I want to finish my patrol, and go home.”

 

“Jason damnet, I’m trying here!”

 

“I don’t want you to try, I want you to leave me alone.”  _Please, I shouldn't be around anyone, ever_

 

“I’m not going to leave you alone.”  _Excuse me what?_

 

“What was that Dickbird? Ya wanna say tha’ again?”The hairs on the back of Jason's neck stand, he wants to spit on the man's face, how dare he. 

 

“I’m not leaving you alone, I’m never leaving you again Jason.” Jason could have laughed, who was Dick to demand such things, who did Dick think he was? Jason's ex-lover? 

 

“Oh yea', ya think _you_ have the right to push yo'rself in my life. Ya think there’s a place for you? That _I_ want _you_ in that place?”

 

“No Jason, that’s not what I meant, Dammit just listen to me!” Dick straightens out his back, there's a grim line of determination that flattens the circus boys lips. 

 

“ I know I don’t have the right, I know I’m not a good brother, I never have been, not when you were Robin and needed me, not when you came back, not when I was Batman, not after Damian came back, not after Bruce decided to beat you! - I know this, I know more than anyone how terrible Bruce can be with anything regarding emotions- and yet- I ran away, I left - I left you, and when Tim came around I promised that would be the best older brother that anyone could want, I became the brother you deserved. And when I had the opportunity to fix that with you - I ran away again.” He gasps for breath, fist clenching raven hair.

 

“Jason, I’ve always run away when it came to you, I always let Batman deal with it, and I should know that whenever B gets involved it gets worse, I was so insecure and angry that I never once thought about anyone but myself, I should have put my foot down the first time he hurt you, I should have done better when I was Batman, I shouldn’t have locked you up next to that _thing_ , It should have been _me_ rescuing you that night, not Arsenal. I should have been your brother at least once, but I wasn’t Jason - and I’m never going to make that mistake again, I’m done running away from you, Jason; I’m done with being a kid, in a costume trying to pretend that I’ve got everything under control. I’m done with trying to be like B”

 

“Dick-”

 

“No, I’m not done - I - I’m sorry, Jason I’m sorry. I’m not sure what will make things better between us, but I know that I’m not going anywhere, you can run Jason, you can fight me, you can hide, but I’m sticking around, I’m here.”

 

Man, if that wasn’t a cluster fuck of emotions for Jason to deal with. One part of him, the kid that worshipped the Robin mantle was ready to run into the arms of someone that finally wanted him, but the other parts, the parts made of the boy that dug his way out of a grave, that was lost, found, and tortured, lost again and lost forever, wanted nothing else then to shoot the former circus boy in the face. The part of Jason, that made a home from a broken building, that was ready to graduate from school, that had calloused hands from shaving wood and lining pipes, the Jason that had Roy in his corner, the Jason that learned that his failures didn’t define him, the Jason that took his pills when hiding in his own home, that Jason just wanted peace.

 

Rule #6: _You’re going to fail, but that ok, you’ll get back up._

 

“Dick, I’m only going to say this once, so listen clearly - none of that was your fault, I’m no one's responsibility but - my - own. I don’t hate you, I don’t think I ever really have.” because Jason knows what’s the Pit and what’s him now. “When B disappeared, I should have taken that as a blessing for my freedom, but I was sick and didn’t understand what was happening. I missed out on a lot of things” like school, like a Scarlet “I’m not- I’m never going to be the kid that use to be Robin, he’s gone - and that’s ok. I’m ok Dick, I’m finally going to be ok, but every time I go into that manor everytime I’m around _him_ , I feel like you guys are trying to trip me, make me fail. I’m finally in a place that good, and I don’t want you or anyone to take that from me.”

 

“Ja-”

 

“You can stick around Dick, you can follow me, you can keep tabs and take pictures, whatever you want, but I’m not letting you or anyone takes away all I’ve been able to do, I’m not going to let you or anyone shame me or hurt me ever again.” Jason feels his back straighten, he’s not afraid and he’s not angry, he’s sure. He knows that he has to find his own way in life, that nobody but him can do it. “So, what will it be Golden boy?”

 

“I’m sticking around, and I won’t take anything you’re not giving Jason.” Jason nods, he can’t stop Dick, but maybe they can come to a truce. Jason won’t give, and Dick won’t either, it’s the one thing both former Robin’s have in common, and that’s ok.

 

“K, I’ve got a two hour left of patrol.” Jason takes off, swinging through buildings and running over rooftops, he counts the number of homeless people that are around distinct areas, hammering the amount into his mind, memorizing faces, and promising himself he’ll never let his people down again. He falls into alleyways, and walks downs roads, runs his hands over lucky bricks, and checks/counts more faces. All things Batman would never have let him do, it's dangerous to patrol on foot, it’s foolish to come down from the roof, he doesn’t care, Jason is the Red Hood, not a Bat. Nightwing follows close behind, hesitates when he sees what Jason does, how Jason does it, how Jason knows Gotham so well, how he talks to hookers and calls them by their names, how he lifts hoods and hats to look at people’s faces, gets close enough to see their dull eyes. How Jason doesn’t give a damn about getting killed.

 

Nightwing watches and follows quietly, Jason doesn’t even mind, he keeps going about his business. The Bowery was his spot, from crime alley to the abandoned docks, belong to him. And this was how he did it. He gave candy out and rolls of duct tape, said hello and shook hands with people that probably hadn’t showered in months, he asked questions, and everyone had a story to give him, a heads up or a memory long passed. Jason gathers the information with a recorder in his helmet, where he’ll dump the data in his files, spend hours organizing and trying his best to make sense of a homeless man's rambles. At times he’s more historian then investigator, writing down new maps of Gotham's pasts.

 

He finishes patrol before four, tells Dick to go home, he’s done for the night. Nightwing hesitates, as if not sure in stopping his following of Jason. Jason still feels like running away, but he holds his ground, he needs Dick to see that Jason isn’t going to be forced out. The pair shares a nod, and take off in different directions. Jason’s got class at noon, he needs to catch up in his sleep.

 

He doesn’t expect to see Nightwing the next time he’s out for the following doesn’t expect him to watch him the whole time. The Druglord in him, grinds his teeth, but Jason pushes on, he’ll have to do that type of work during the day, he won't shift his schedule around, he doesn’t want Dick knowing that Jason doesn't normally patrol every night, he doesn’t want the older man asking question or go looking for him. But there’s a stronger urge to not change his life schedule for Dick, why should he? It’s clear that Dick is only trying to follow Jason during his Red Hood patrols, assisting when he can.  

 

“You don’t patrol on Monday or Wednesdays, and do a very short night run on Tuesday,” Nightwing mentions one Thursday night, Jason shrugs.

 

“I’ve got other things going on.”

 

“You do the worst times too, from 12 am to 5 am, don’t you sleep?”

 

“All the time, probably get more sleep than you.”

 

“You’re a busy man, Littlewing.” Jason shrugs again

 

“How long are you planning on doing this.” to Jason’s amusement Dick is the one that shrugs this time.

 

“You definitely work differently than how I had thought.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You know all of them by name, it’s a tricky thing to deal with.” you get personal Jason, is what isn’t said, that’s reckless.

 

“I do.” he's proud of that, he's proud that he knew Mick.

 

“Di-did you know the names of the ones that died because of Penguin?” it was a bold question, not that Jason cared, he wasn’t going to let anyone shame him.

 

“I did, I knew their faces and where they slept.” Jason ignores the pained look in Dick’s face. “I know who I protect.” The acrobat tensed for a minute, yet said nothing.

 

“I think it's good, that you're a part of the community”

 

Jason nods, he feels better today, his routine has helped with that, he's bought a new pack of stickers, he doesn't feel so tired.

 

“Hey, Nightwing?”

 

“Yes, Hood?”

 

“You’ve got a shadow following you.” Dick smirks, the two of them don’t look at the small figure hiding around the corner. It’s Damian, Jason knows, he’s showed up about ten minutes ago.

 

“We’ll be leaving.”

 

**BRUCE**

 

These last few months have been hell, the explosion had rocked Gotham’s core. Batman and the rest had headed straight to it. Lower Gotham, the old red light district, Jason's territory (and yeah it had taken a while for him to come around that train of thought) was in pieces. Every few seconds more and more destinations could be heard and felt. Gunshots and a fog of bullets rained down from the sky. Bruce had called his family back, to take cover, there were too many stray bullets falling from the sky. All the training the world couldn't promise you shelter from an unknown bullet falling from the sky.

 

It wasn't till late into the night, that the bullet stopped falling, machine guns that ran out of bullets could be heard going off in silence. The police and the national guard are presently moving in. The Bats are too.

 

Bruce doesn't even know where to look, how to start looking, the rubble and fire bring him back to Ethiopia, he pushes the thought away.

 

“B, Barbara says she can't find his helmet signal,” Tim says while flipping over bricks. It's Nightwing who starts calling out for Jason.

 

“Hood!” his oldest flips over debris, the smell of charred body fills the air.

 

Is there going to be anything left? Bruce feels his head spinning, what if there was nothing left? What would he do? 

 

The firefighters are close behind them, and Bruce notices Damien tense at the sight of cadaver dogs.

 

They find nothing that day, nothing that proves that Jason had survived but more importantly nothing that proves that he hadn't.

 

Bruce isn't sure what he would do if Jason's body was found in the rubble. How he could deal with going through that, again. 

 

Tim had said something about it being an ambush, orchestrated by Penguin. That Cobblepot had moved in while the Red Hood was across his territory, set up automatic machine guns in rooms, and rooftops, aimed straight into the sky. In the buildings, snipers waited. Whatever they used as bait was long gone.

 

By the time the Red Hood made it to the Old Red Light District, everything was set into place.

 

His son hadn't even had time to run, before the whole street was lit up.

 

The explosions came from the thugs hired to go head to head with the Red Hood, at least that's what they had been informed. None of them new their bullets proof vest had bombs inside. The first ones to explode set off a chain reaction of panic and death. The smart ones, stripped naked and ran away.

 

The mission was abandoned ones penguin goons realized what their boss was willing to do to kill the Red Hood. What followed was pure chaos, the machine guns had enough bullets to last the night. There was an unknown amount of undetonated bombs. Most ran for their lives. Some of them claimed to have seen the Red Hood heading into the fires, calling out names. 

 

Penguin had lost control of the situation and was found early this morning, clutching his shrapnel disfigured face, cursing the Red Hood.

 

It was four agonizingly long days before he was able to get an update. Arsenal had been spotted heading towards Jason's part of Gotham, Cassandra had been the one to intercept him. Steph had done all the talking.

 

The former speedy, confirmed that Jason had indeed survived and would make a full recovery. But did not give them anymore on the matter.

 

Bruce should have made Dick confront Jason when the man started declining all invitations to the manor, he should have figure out where Jason had more safe houses. Bruce should have stopped being a coward before nearly losing his son, - again.  

 

When Dick comes back after the second week of patrolling alongside Jason, Bruce asks him.

 

“I want to contact with the Red Hood.” Dick had turned his face at Bruce, a hard glare on his face, it's the face he has when Bruce has said something wrong. 

 

“Absolutely not going to happen” He snaps at Bruce, these last few weeks have made Dick more voletile then usual, even Damian seems to be avoiding the man. 

 

“I need to talk to him.”

 

“No” If Bruce didn't know any better, he would think Dick was ready to come to fight him. 

 

“Dick.” he pleads 

 

“Bruce.” Dick deadpans, clearly annoyed. 

 

Bruce grits his teeth, Dick isn't going to back down, and Bruce won't ruin the piece that's fallen between him and his first Robin, - yet.

 

He approaches Alfred the next morning; while his almost-father served him breakfast. Bruce strategically waited for all the plates to be put down and away from the former British spies hands. 

 

“I'd like to speak to my son” 

 

“Which one Master Bruce, Damian is downstairs if it's him you are looking for.”

 

“I want to speak to Jason.” The butler stills for a second, Bruce feels the butler's eyes studying him.

 

“I do not think that it would be a wise decision for that to happen.” ok, perhaps Bruce should approach it in another way. 

 

“Alfred, please...I just want to hear his voice.”

 

“When enough time has passed, I will invite him to brunch. You will wait till then.”

 

Bruce grits his teeth again.

 

“Can I not call him?” 

 

“No.”

 

Bruce remembers when his opinions had weight. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you guys thought, also I'll be busier this coming week if you see that it's been more then 2 weeks, remind me to update.


	5. Stalk and Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is Bruce

**BRUCE**

It's one chilly fall afternoon that he sees him - while Bruce is driving down main street - by accident. Bruce was taking a shortcut through gotham eastern in hopes of avoiding traffic on his way to a back from a board meeting. Weaving through neighborhood and small parks, by pure chance he looks to his left before taking a right onto another road his eyes are drawn to the billowing steam coming from vents of food trucks, food stalls, and people waving flyers, each had copious amount of people crowded around them, half-hazard lines trailed every which way  - and there he is -Jason is just there, waiting in one of the lines.

 

With barely a thought spared, Bruce makes an Illegal U-turn when he sees an opening, parks across the street. His heart starts to quicken, he doesn't know how to proceed. Get out, would risk Dick or worse - Alfred finding out, the two of them clearly winding up for a fight, they're waiting for Bruce to slip first, to see him crack. Stay in and risk Jason seeing him- an interaction that Bruce can admit to not be ready for. Drive away, and wait God knows how long to see Jason again.

 

He stays in the car instead and watches Jason. The ache in heart loosens up a bit, how he missed just looking at the man; now Bruce couldn't help but smile. Jason was busy eating as many 50¢ Taco's as he physically could, he had a mug of what appeared to be coffee steaming from it. Bruce can’t tell what types of Tacos are being consumed so vigorously but he can definitely tell his son loves them. There’s a happy little smile whenever he gets his hands on another.  

 

Bruce pulls out his cellphone, then decided against it, and pulls out an old digital camera from the glove compartment, uses it to get a close up of his son's face. One picture for his album the others to gather information.

 

Jason's hoodie and clothing had nothing that would indicate any preferred brands, but the mug did.  In large black letter, GG was printed, more pictures, close-ups of Jason's hands, his shoes, his son pays in cash and continues to eat.

 

Quickly he rips out a page from his meeting notebook and starts to scribble down notes.

 

  * Increase in appetite



 

  * Calloused hands



 

  * Steel toed boots



 

  * Dust covered clothing



 

  * A hard hat hooked to a utility belt



 

  * A lanyard with GTC printed on.



 

  * Cut gloves tucked into worn out jeans



 

  * Paint splatter on his clothing



 

More pictures, more data, he had about a minute before Jason's training kicked in and he started scanning his surroundings. Bruce had done a pretty poor job of parking out of the way, he’d notice Bruce ’s black Porsche. thirty seconds left and Bruce drives off, takes the first left to get out of Jason's view.

 

He parks in front of an old laundry mat, his heart is racing when pulls out a set of old worn sweats and a baseball cap he keeps under his passenger seat. It's an emergency Brucie Wayne Needs to get out of paparazzi disguise he hasn't used sense Damian showed up as his long lost son. He slips on a hoodie pulls the hood on and goes for a jog in a pair of sneakers that haven’t been broken in yet.

 

He talks himself into a slow relaxed pace, nothing that could catch Jason's eye. He partly wishes that he wasn't so tall and broad around the shoulders. Letting his feet drag a bit, Bruce changes his gate, lets his hands swing lower, he keeps his head tilted enough for the rim of the hood to cover most his face.

 

He finds a park bench about 30 yards from where Jason should be, squats down behind it for some cover, he pretended to tie his shoes.

 

To his relief Jason is still at the truck, talking to the female vendor who’s giggling, Jason's sporting a blush as he's nervously wiping at his sauce covered face. Bruce can read the woman lips from where he's currently pretending stretching.

 

“Oh, let me get that.”

 

“I'm happy to see you today.”

 

“B715 looks great”

 

“I wouldn't mind having you working about my place.”

 

Jason laughs, the red on his neck proves to Bruce that his son is indeed flattered by the young buxom woman flirting with him.

 

Jason stays for a while longer, there's two aluminum wrapped tacos on the counter.  The woman leans in, giving Jason a rather good view of her body. To Bruce's amusement, Jason ducks his head and stuffs both hands into his pocket. A nervous habit he did even when Robin, one that Bruce use to tease the boy about.

 

A habit that reminds Bruce of how painfully the same Jason of today is to the Jason of yester-years.

 

“I’ll see ya 'round, Jason.”

 

Jason to his credit, managed to remember his coffee mug, only having to double back once for the tacos, the cheeky women sending him off with a wink. Bruce bit back a laugh when his poor boy stumbled on his next steps.

 

He wishes to go over, give him some pointers, as he had for Dick, and Tim and one day Damian. Jason had always had a soft spot for women, enough that when young, the boy would always say the wrong things in the absolutely worse time. Bruce blames the romance novels that Jason would hide under his pillow. Completely unrealistic. How did a street kid like Jason develop a tender heart for the romantics, was beyond Bruce's scope of understanding.

 

Well, most things regarding Jason was beyond the scope of Bruce's understanding. If he could just, understand Jason, then maybe Bruce would be able to be the man's father again? He just needed more data, stay on Dick and Alfred good side, and he was sure that in no time, he and Jason could be family again. Bruce just needed to not fuck things up.

 

He waited for ten minutes after Jason left, catching sight of Bus 602143 on route 915 at 10:15 am, heading south, that the second Robin hopped onto. He starts running back to his car and wondered how he was going to manage to do research on Jason, without Barbara or Tim finding out. He’d have to do most if not all with pen and paper. Barbara was to good at getting into his files, even his phone. He’d have to start going more to the office, there would be no way that he’d be able to do such work in the manner. Dick and Alfred kept a close eye on every breath Bruce made there, and in the field, Bruce had his suspicions that Cassandra and Kate were doing the same. Tim’s presence in WE was becoming overwhelming sank to Bruce’s schedule.

 

The watchtower was compromised due to Clark’s doesn’t-believe-in-space tendency and Wonder-can-fix-anything-man-can’t Women are a real pain in the ass to do research with, even worse when it comes to things they dub “personal matters”. The lectures from how things went with Jason still ring in his ears, he really didn't want to deal with Clark's watery eyes again. He'd gladly take another roadhouse kick to the back from Diana then deal with a crying Superman.

 

The problem with doing things the old fashion way, as Bruce painful finds out the next day, is how slow it is. He had to stop by the public library and grab all the free bus route pamphlets, local newspapers, and look at bulletin boards, and ask questions in disguise, before heading home. Lunch breaks aren’t possible with Tim eating with him. Not that Bruce minds eating with his son, he really enjoys talking to Tim about business, and his latest love life updates (always confusing as far as Bruce is concerned). It just made it hard to sneak off, Tim, out of all his kids is the most observant - he’d catch any odd behavior coming from Bruce - and tell Dick immediately. He’s living with spies.

 

But he found it, 'Gothamites for Gotham’ (GG) was a small nonprofit company, if something of that size can be called that, in charge of updating Gotham's public housing, comprised primarily of volunteers and working closely with Gotham's technical college (GTC). At least that's what the flyer resting inside Gotham daily said. Meetings took place Tuesday night at Central Gotham middle school small gymnasium there's a number given for anyone that has questions.

 

Bruce started leafing through more newspapers till he found a small article talks about windows and insulation being updated by local volunteers, there was a short story on a waitress learning how to install fire detectors, she wore a hard hat, steel toe boots, and a utility belt.

 

Opening up the bus route map, he located Gotham Public building 715, and the bus routes that took people there is 602143. He circled all the building that would be or have already gotten updates. The next day before work, Bruce heads to the public library. He needed to make phone calls that can’t be traced back to him, he needs a pay phone.

 

He gives himself a pat on the back for remembering how to use a payphone and dials the number on the flyer. The deep raspy voice answers.

 

“Hello, this Jone fron Tires fo’ less how can I help ya?”

 

“Hello, I'm calling to ask about how Gothamatie for Gotham, I was told to contact this number?’

 

“Yes, this is the right place, what can I help ya with?” The tone sounds suspicious, and Bruce could slap his forehead for not switching out his accent for that of Lower Gotham.

 

“Yes I would like more information on the type of volunteers you have and how I can help, I'm a non-traditional from out of town, with not much experience with building.” Hopefully, that will do the trick.

 

“Why let me tell you all about it,-” it does

 

It's Tuesday night and Bruce is sitting at the crowded parking lot of a run-down middle school. He was supposed to be at a meeting in Hong Kong, at least that's the lie he fed Tim.  There was no meeting, just Bruce sitting in the darkest part of the parking lot, in a rented Honda civic.

 

He waits till he sees Jason roll in on his motorcycle, a blue one that Bruce didn't know about. More data. Once he's sure Jason has gone in, Bruce makes his way into the building. He was fairly confident in his disguise, tanned skin, beard, face clay, and glasses. As long as he doesn't come in contact with Jason then he should be fine.

 

It smells of cheap coffee and old doughnuts, there's a lot of chattering, Bruce finds it easy to blend in, he isn't bothered by anyone as he slowly sips his coffee (one that not even Tim would consider coffee). Jason is sitting toward the front left side, surrounded by a group of people, all of them including Jason have sweaters with the Gotham Technical College logo on them. More data.

 

The meeting is relatively boring, they talked about what buildings needed what, sign up forms, training forms, the budget etc. Bruce slips out before the end of the meeting along with an elderly woman he pretends to have come with. He leaves before Jason can pick up on his presence. The guy scans the room every six minutes, it was getting tricky to stay off his son's radar. Every time Bruce's eyes rested on Jason for more than ten seconds the man would tense and start to scan. It was one hell of a sixth sense.

 

Bruce staying at a motel took advantage of the free WiFi and laptop checked out from the local library. He's not sure if the outdated laptop could take more than googling questions, hacking into GTC records may or may not break the old thing.

 

Four hours later

 

He's done, it would have taken him minutes in the cave, yet beggars can’t be choosers. He's got more butterflies in him then all the squealing teenage girls in all the world.

 

Jason was doing good, better than good, he was doing great.

 

Jason was getting his contractor license, he'd stumbled in some of his classes and retaken a few, but he still on track. School and vigilantism did not go hand in hand, Bruce had done all his education before putting on the mantle, and Stephanie was in rolled in Gotham U, but at times took entire semesters off, and Tim hadn't even bothered this year. Each of his Robin’s hated to go to school, it was a means to an end. Dick even confessed that he only barely made it through the police academy.  And here was Jason, making it work.

 

It was like a flood gate opened, and Bruce was all too eager in being swept up.

 

Jason's new identity was Jason Todd, Bruce would have had a stroke if he hadn't seen how clever it was for his son to hide in plain sight. Jason Todd is a rather common name in Gotham, it was an easy identity to take.

  
  


He got his hands on Jason’s school transcripts, a GED completed in four months, articles from newspapers, flyers with Jason's name printed on them, Bruce hacked into professor personal servers, to look at essays submitted by Jason, lecture videos where Jason was seated way in the back are watched repeatedly, He looks at his son's school work, his nose scrunches when he sees test with scores Bruce thinks he could argue for higher, doesn't know why Jason didn't.  Pictures of projects, Jason's first fully finished chair (sold at a student action for 5$, and Bruce had practically foamed at the mouth), he found Jason’s Resume, checked out all the references listed. He got his hands on the emergency contact sheet (Roy Harper is listed), he’s got Jason’s cell phone number, an address to a P.O box.

 

Bruce Gave himself chills, it had been a really long time since he delved this far into his work. When Alfred finds out, he'll commit Bruce into a psych ward. When Dick finds out - he’ll lock Bruce up in the Manor attack. He thinks Tim would understand - but agree to put Bruce under house arrest, Bruce would deserve it.

 

Anyways, he had to drive to the airport and pretend to be picked up by Alfred.

 

Bruce has taken to passing by the food trucks every day from work, he makes sure to switch out to cars Jason wouldn’t recognize, rented pickup trucks, beaten up Fords, minivans etc. He visits B715, on Thursday afternoons - well he parks across the street and watches his son paint over graffiti, patch holes, hall material in and out of buildings, on days that Jason stayed inside, Bruce spent his time going to the public library. He won’t dare risk going to another GG meeting, but he’s found out that they keep library bulletin board with updates and schedules for new projects. Sometimes Bruce contemplates signing up (with an alias), he doesn't. Jason’s too good at watching his own back. Literally.

 

His boy scans a crowd more often then TSA does during a bomb threat, and the one time Bruce tried to go to Gotham Tech had to lead to his almost reveal. Jason was good, one day he’d ask him how that became second nature.

 

It’s a Friday when he goes to another ‘meeting in China’, wholed up one bedroom Motel 6, he powers up the rented laptop. He’s looking to see when there will be another student auction. He wants to get his hands on the wooden chest he’d seen Jason painting the other day. He’s already cleared room for it in his study.

 

It’s four weeks, two days later that Jason comes for dinner, 6 full months since the last time. Bruce had been more than happy, he was practically ready to vomit. It definitely had nothing to do with Catwoman showing up again on Gotham either. He was genuinely happy to know Jason would be coming today, five weeks before he graduated from Gotham Tech. Bruce could almost pretend it was a graduation dinner. He ’d even convinced Alfred to have the dinner done in the small ballroom, stating that space would be better suited for the occasion, not so stuffy and confined as the dining room. The large windows and fireplace would be more calming. He also was adamant in the food being served that night have cherry pie, an old school favorite of all his kids, also a dish normally served in celebrations. The last had been Dick’s birthday.

 

The look Alfred gave him, was undeniably suspicious. Bruce had no doubt that his bedroom and office would be raided tomorrow. Tim would be snooping around WE too. It wouldn’t matter, he keeps all his paperwork in a rented locker room at the public library.

 

When Dick walks in and sees the dinner arrangement Bruce knows, he just knows, that when Jason leaves later that evening his oldest will be ready to swing at him. Dick gives him such a nasty glare that even Cassandra seems to want to hide. Dick might not know what Bruce knows about Jason, but he knows that Bruce knows something he shouldn’t.

 

The first Robin has become so damn controlling over contact with Jason, Bruce isn’t sure if has something to do with the temporary memory loss from a bullet to head from a few years ago or that this attitude was always a characteristic Dick possessed. No one was spared from Dicks wrath when it came to Jason, he’d gone after Duke.

 

‘What do you mean he saw you fall? You shouldn’t be near enough for him to have seen that’

 

 _And_ Damian for trying to spy

 

‘Little D, don’t you ever try to pull that stunt again-no I don’t care- do that again and I’m telling superboy he can be the new Nightwing.’

 

Yeah, Dick may have inherited Bruce controlling nature, it just has taken a while for it to show up.

 

That didn't matter, he'd deal with the aftermath with Dick later on that day. He was too pleased with Jason coming in a whole ten minutes early. It was kind of strange seeing his son there in the manner and Bruce being able to openly look at him. He'd gotten kind of used to ducking behind objects and driving by. In this angle, be could better see Jason.

 

There's a faint tremor that runs up his second oldest body. Probably from muscle exhaustion, the poor guy was putting drywall up all day yesterday, plus running around all night, it was a miracle Jason didn't just fall into a mass of cramps.

 

Bruce could walk him through stretching exercise, talk to him in that soothing voice that always got his kids to calm down enough to listen to him. But he knew to suggest such a thing would end poorly.  Jason would run away, and Dick would kill him.

  


**Jason**

If awkward was a skill, Jason is confident that he’d mastered it. Not only had he decided to go back to the Wayne Manor (he’s twisted, Jason is so so twisted) but he’d agreed in coming for dinner. And man what a dinner.

 

Where they ready to throw a ball?

 

It had been ages that he’d seen the minor ballroom, a room used for birthday parties and intimate family Christmas parties. Why would they be using this room? Not only was it larger than the dining room but the bay windows let the cool autumn light filter in. The warm fire crackled in the background reminded Jason of a Hallmark movie. The floor was shined to almost mirror-like state, the rest of the space was dimly lit by candlelight.

 

Was this the red wedding? Was Jason about to have his stomach stabbed?

 

He was the last one to arrive, which was saying something because he’s a full 10 minutes early. He’s got a long sleeve t-shirt and jeans on. Had he known this was going to be formal he would have put more effort. He would have at least put on a cleaner pair of sneakers; maybe combed his hair.

 

“Am I underdressed?” he asks Duke, once he takes his usual seat.

 

“No, it’s fine, most of us came from the gala and didn’t bother changing.”

 

Oh, was it that time a year? He’d forgotten about the annual Martha Wayne charity gala, it was different from most Wayne Gala’s because it happens during the day, instead of dinner it was brunch, it was supposed to give people enough time to go out and volunteer that evening. Not that any of the attendees ever did.

 

Then Jason sees it, the cherry pie, _it must be because of the Gala._

 

There’s a nagging feeling at the back of his head. For the first time in what? A year? He looks down the table to gaze at Bruce. He fights back a glare when he sees the look of surprise on Bruce’s face when they lock eyes. Jason wants to scream, there’s something going on that he doesn’t know. Bruce has done something - but what?

 

It’s Kate that breaks the silence, followed by Barbara, Stephanie, and Cass. The four talking fills in the silence and soon as if on cue Tim engages Duke on a conversation, Damian jumping in as if trying to escape. It feels like the table is comprised of Jason, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. Each with their own agenda, each trying to read one another.

 

Jason might be on drugs (and he would never get off them again, fuck his kidneys, liver, brain, CNS, and sexual drive) but he was still Jason Peter Todd, he wasn’t afraid of confrontation. Especially when it was something that could involve him. He looks at Bruce again - this time his mind is churning, his brain is putting pieces together. He looks back down at his dinner, it’s his favorite. He looks at Alfred, the Brit looks right back, Jason offers him a week smile from across the table, is the food poisoned? Is anyone else eating? Did I serve this myself? He looks across from him to Dick, the former Batman smiles at him - _what the fuck is going on_ , something is off. His mind keeps spinning, more things are being put together - but how much is his paranoia? How much is a real deduction and how much is Jason’s mania?

 

He knows someone has been following him, he had thought it was Dick

 

But why? Dick had assured him that it was only during a patrol, the first Robin could just use the CCTV tapes, really it wasn’t that Jason was hiding his life from people. He just didn’t advertise his life, what for? Attention? The only thing he protected is his home, and that's because it's his safe space and he spent a lot of money in it.

 

He considered the possibility of Alfred. The former spy probably could do it still, yet - Alfred was so busy, and his grandfather-like figure was straight forward. The last time he’d called he’d asked point blank if he could come over and see Jason's work. Jason had declined.

 

Maybe it’s one of the talkers? Tim - well he definitely was a stalker - but his former ‘college’ avoided Jason these days, Damian? Maybe, but the kid was arrogant and therefore sloppy, Cassandra? She could do it, she could find anything she wanted from Jason. And she’d do it for Bruce. Kate would too. Yet - he's pretty sure neither are.

 

Stephenie wouldn’t, she had a checked past with Bruce, one that seemed to be barely holding on.  Barbara could stalk him via CCTV but the first Batgirl was just as straightforward as Alfred. It seemed unlikely.

 

“So Jason - how have you been?” Duke says, his voice earnest “it’s been like forever, you going to do anything fun for Valentine's day?”

 

“B’n alright, see ya’ve been keepin’ ya selve busy.” Jason pretends to be taking of drink of water.

 

“Yeah, you know being cool, living my life.”

 

“Yea’ thas cool.”

 

“But v-day, are you doing something?” Duke wouldn’t be following him, he’s too inexperienced to do that. Not to mention the newest addition seemed always eager to please. Even Jason was at the end of that desire.

 

“Same as I always do.”

 

“Oh, was that?”  


“patrol, hang out with Roy.”

 

“What, no girlfriend, or is….Roy.” Jason burst into laughter “Hey I don't judge, I would totally be ok with that!” Jason kept laughing. “I would, really!”

 

“I don't doubt ya, you sound'n pretty on the thirsty side.” _Him dating? Him with anyone? What a joke._

 

“Who me? No, not thirsty - just looking around, you know?” And Jason does know, he knows more than anyone. Before - the-bat-symbol-off-armor-episode - he'd actively been looking, dates, chat groups, the friend of a friend, looking at Redheaded friend, becoming brave, then the meds came and Jason's dick stopped working and sexual appetite hit zero, panic attack, school, patrol, book club. Yeah, Jason wasn't in the right place for that kind of thing anymore, maybe never was.

 

He's never had much experience with that kind of thing. Sex - plenty of experience, real relationship - zero experience. He'd never had anyone reciprocate his emotions, as far as Jason was concerned he'd always been a rebound, the second fiddle to all melodies.

 

He was second to drugs, a rebound from Dick, a replacement for Bruce, an experiment, a hopeful filler, that always came up short. Jason had never found anyone that put him first - he's not sure he'd know what to do if he ever was. Probably go into a manic killing spree episode.

 

“Sure y'all find someone.” he starts to eat, if it's poisoned who cares, not Jason, he's hungry.

 

Duke continues to talk, Jason wills his hands not to shake. He'd been struggling with that lately, Dr.H wants to switch him to another medication, Jason's refused. He can't risk anyone dying.

 

It's halfway into a conversation about basketball that he almost fails to see Dick lean forward and place another surviving of mashed potatoes on Jason's plate. Jason catches the older man's eyes for a second. The two share an unreadable look.

 

He keeps eating, chooses not to think about it. Had he been scarfing down his food that fast? How long had Dick been sneaking food on his plate? Was it poisoned?

 

Still not the weirdest thing that is happening at the dinner table. Every time Jason looks up, Bruce is looking at him.

 

_'well shit, if you don't want me here just say so’_

 

He knows someone is following him, if Bruce wasn’t so busy, with access to CCTV and all the resources from the Bat Cave he’d of thought his old mentor may be who.

 

_Maybe I’m being followed by a secret admirer?_

 

Jason reminds himself he just needs to wait them out, give them what they want to see. As soon as Dick, Bruce, and Alfred let their guards down and trust Jason, he'll cut them out.  He's almost done with school and the housing project has a few more months.

 

He’s pretty sure Dick will be the hardest one to get rid of, the man was constantly by his side during patrol. Sharing water bottles and granola bars with Jason. Telling Jason that he’s lost weight, that he’s pushing too hard. Jason takes it with stride, every other night the Red Hood tells Nightwing to fuck off. He can’t exactly tell him what’s really happening.

 

_I’m losing weight cause I shit everything out every night! I’m always hungry cause of the meds and your hoovering makes it hard to keep the shaking under wraps!_

 

He pushes his plate away from another helping from Dick. Ignores the raven-haired man's glittering eyes.

 

“Thanks for the meal Alfred, I'll clean up after myself.” Jason stands, Duke looks startled, there's a look on the ebony man's face that Jason thinks might be panic.

 

“Dude, aren't you going stay for dessert?” Duke points at the freshly baked cherry pie. Jason is pretty sure he’ll have to stop at the nearest gas station and die in the bathroom if he eats that.

 

“Uh, it's getting -”

 

“Dude one slice of pie, with some ice cream.” Dark Cobalt eyes looked desperately into Jason's. “Come on, it’s been ages, you’ve been here for like 15 minutes.”  

 

“Uh- k” Jason sits down again, the conversation around the table picks up again. This time Jason can see Kate's strained smile, the pinch around Stephanie's eyes, the way Cassandra struggles to find words. It's like some weird theater show, where none of the actors want to look into the audience or acknowledge the curtain is about to drop.

 

_Is this play for me? Or did I stumble into this?_

 

“Are yo’ guys alright?”   _there I said it, I don't care about any of them, I just want to make sure I don't leave Alfred in a dangerous place._

 

“Little wing what do you mean?” Dick gives him a serving of cherry pie and ice cream.

 

 _Is this half the entire pie?_ He’s not going to make it to the gas station, he’ll have to zoom of the nearest tree away from the manor. Maybe he should listen to Dr. H, maybe he does need to switch to another medication. He couldn’t keep going to the bathroom every hour, his damn ass hole hurt. But - what if the new one doesn’t work as well?

 

“The air is electric Dick, I didn't get where I'm at without knowing when a fights 'bout to break” Duke knocks his left knee against Jason right - a warning sign. Well, Jason was never afraid of a fight, he's got a six-inch blade, a Glock, and a thin layer of kevlar body armor under his shirt; not to mention everything on the dining room table was fair game.

 

_I can flip this table over and use the chair as a mallet if I have to!_

 

“What? Jay - you are - we're -”

 

“Having dinner, nothing unusual,” Tim speaks, he sends Jason a shy smile. Jason would have to admit that it gave him the creeps. Tim had avoided most if not all contact with Jason since he started coming to these dinners. The smaller man, looked to always want to be near enough to Jason to attach if needed but far enough to keep Jason from attaching him. A pretty smart move, considering their history.

 

“Right - and Alfred just turned 25, look if we're going to fight, can you least let me choose if I want to participate.”

 

Duke's knee hits him again

 

 _This guy doesn't know me, he clearly doesn't know I'm_ **_crazy_ ** _._

 

“I'd rather just go home, and not - fight.” _Or get murdered_.

 

“Master Jason nothing of that nature is going to happen.”

 

“Great, glad to hear that Alfred, as soon as I'm done” he looks down at his plate - was there more ice cream on his plate? “I'm heading home, I can help you clean up if you'd like?” I need to have a word with you Mr. Pennyworth

 

Alfred smiles kindly at him

 

“I would very much like that, master Jason”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my take on how Bruce Handles things, I really think he's a great father but stumbles and falls on his face. He clearly loves his kids, even canon shows that, but he's just so arrogant that he'll never be able to see another person's view till he's broken. I'm secretly cheering for Bain. 
> 
> In this chapter, I also wanted to show what a small manic/panic attack is like in Jason's end. 
> 
> I love all you're comments and Kudos, please keep reminding me and cheering me on! I really can't believe you guys like my fic! I love you all. I think in three weeks I can get the other chapter up. Please remind me if you see it's taken more than that.


	6. Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is doing his best, Bruce is too.

**Jason**

When Jason had been - not as stable as he knows- He would have told Alfred his nagging suspicion of being followed, he might have even thrown a dish at Bruce and demand the man to stop either himself or one of his ilks from stalking Jason.

Jason, however, didn't want to ruin his mission. He forced his mind to calm down, to remember that he needed to play nice - BE nice if he wanted any chance of getting their trust back.

Instead of screaming, he chose to help Alfred clean up after dinner. His stomach cramps and tight butt cheeks be damned.

Today he needed to talk to the butler, not lecture him on the merits of privacy. He waits till they're both in the easy rhythm of washing, rinsing and drying.

“Alfred, there's something I'd like to tell you.”

“I do suppose you would, master Jason.” the elderly man hands him a soapy dish.

“I'll be going out of town for a few months.” Not really, Jason just needed to take a break from patrolling, focus on his exit exams, and just have some time away...for a major drug drop off. He needed to make some cha-ching, and pronto.

Was it ironic that Jason's best friend is an ex-drug addict and Jason a responsibility drugged adult and their (because it is _their_ thing when every Outlaw is funded by his money including the ones that aren't actively working with Jason) the main source of income are drugs? Yes, yes it is.

_Life is complicated_

He never outright tells Roy about it, no - never. Roy thinks the Red Hood is in the illegal weapons business, which wasn't a total lie - it was just a very minor part of his business. _very minor_

Jason himself had plenty of money - stored in offshore accounts and invested in legal stock. The Red Hood, however, was constantly scrounging for just enough money to be a major player in the Gotham underworld.

The Red Hood just needed to be the richest bad guy on the block. Richer than the Black Mask, then Falcone, and the Russian mob.

He's not asking for much.

He had paid close attention to Tim the few times his former brother had talked about WE. He’d made small talk with Black Mask, asked questions and pointed out curiosities to the two moguls. Jason had read every business book he could get his hands on, studies other organizations, learned from their mistakes. Jason had quickly come to his own conclusion on what Gotham needed. Gotham needed a Boss. Jason was ready to be that.

If Jason wants to maintain the peace then he has to be the major employer. Simple as that.

It’s not so different than how Singapore, China, and even the U.S government worked. You want loyalty, order, and piece. _Then you better pay to play_.

Hell, even Bruce ran his brood that way, the Justice League would be nowhere without WE funding, Nightwing, Oracle, Red Robin, Robin, Black Bat and the rest of the Bat’s would have nothing without daddy's money. They stayed in line because they needed to.  _Not me, I'm free_

Jason was incredibly proud of the fact, that the Red Hood had a sizable strong operation in lower Gotham drug rings, that he owned three massage parlors, one casino, a handful of restaurants, food vendors and most food trucks, oh - and a shitty motel. Slowly Jason was making it so no one, could work without him. He’d keep the crime down by keeping everyone fed, busy, and working.

He’d be their only friend, hooker, and dealer.

Jason is a good guy - he really is, he just does bad things sometimes.

Next month was the big day - he'd finally gotten the means of opening up a marijuana shack, legal shop, thanks to the new legislation. His lieutenants had kept their eyes on it and had all the paperwork done as Jason had told them. They now have six of the eight permits leased out to Gotham. The other two belonged to an elderly couple and a group of guys from upstate, fine by him. Small business owners - legitimate ones - are fine on his book. As long as they didn't turn into something more ambitious.

He wasn’t stupid, he understands that every new business was a new job for a poor Gothamite, if he kept investing on food trucks, small business, funding pre - K education, and the Technical schools, he could raise the average income of lower Gotham, make them a viable working class. Prove to the world that being poor wasn't synonymous with failure. 

But first -

All he needs to do,

is get the Bat’s trust.

Let Bruce think that Jason had changed, that Jason was better since being nearly killed. Let him think he'd broken Jason - Fuck him, and the Jason that wanted Bruce’s love, that worthless kid can go die with that love as well. _Fuck them both._

He'd spent a lot of time planning and organizing his budding empire. He didn’t cut any corners, his paperwork was always checked regularly by him and his bookies, he did surprise inspections, followed safety codes, paid his employees on time, was a firm believer of keeping employee morale high, maintaining his lackies trust (he’d learned that from Talia). He only maimed rapist, pedophiles, and human traffickers. The men and women that worked for him, think he’s a pretty stand up guy compared to the other crime lords. Shit, Jason knows that quite of few of them have the same vision as him. They believe in his cause.

If things worked out, in a few years, The Red Hood might reward the bastards with some perks, health care, HR department, maybe life insurance. Who knows - Jason doesn’t want to be a bad boss. _I’m just a bad Hero_

His two top lieutenants had gone through training exercises, team meetings, more training - all things necessary in the events that The RedHood is caught or killed. They were decent men, shady (well they are in the mob) but overall pretty good. They had Jason’s moral code and understood what Gotham needed. He likes to call them his knights of the broken table.

They like to call themselves the Red Knights.

The new drug money coming in from the drop will get him the money to pay for new CCTV cameras for some of Bowery streets, the bulk of the money went to paying off people and cutting Red tape, figuring out who needed a leg up in the local politics, had taken some time.

Mayor Melissa Leen fit the bill.

Was she crooked

In need of polishing up her image,

And she's hungry for money more so than Power

She was perfect, Jason's type of puppet leader. And because Jason isn't Bruce, no fear of her turning into Two Face 2.0.

She could still be the rich girl who got the job cause of daddy's influence. Jason doesn't even care that the woman is in Falcone's pocket, pushing drugs into the rich babies of the Gotham elite.

_Not my problem_

As soon as those cams are up and running, The Red Hood will have to burrow further into the cities bowels. Keep the Bats from finding out, it would be a matter of hours from when the announcement is made for Oracle to get in.

It's ok, if it meant someone feeling safer walking home, Jason would gladly hide more. If the cameras helped curve the crime down, then he'd push for more cameras. Jason would be all for a Singapore situation.

It doesn’t stop him from making sure the alleys where he makes his deals are not fitted with cameras. _I’m trying ok?_

“I just wanted to let you know Alfred, that I won't be coming over for a while.” he finished drying a plate “I'm gonna be working with Roy in ‘is territory” he grabs the bowl Alfred was offering “an’ don't want ya to worry if I don't pick up or Dick comes to complain ‘bout me not showing up at night”

The two share a stair, Jason offers the man a sincere smile. The butler to Jason surprise gives him a smile in return, the way those eyes look at Jason so warmly and paternal do not make Jason blink tears away, nope.

“Thank you, master Jason, it soothes an old man heart to know ahead of time, when one of his grandsons decides to - skip town as Ms. Brown likes to say.”

_Is guilt a superpower?_

With the dishes done, the older man wipes down the white marble counters, uses that lemon disinfectant spray Jason loves. Jason grabs the Swiffer mop and begins to clean the kitchen floor. His face staring back at him with every stroke.

He remembers vaguely what it was like to feel like this was his kitchen. It’s not now, Jason’s kitchen had light yellow walls, dark granite countertops, with wooden kitchen cabinets. Warm happy colors meant to soothe his mind. Not the color scheme that any part of the manor had, or the dark bold colors he used for his more established safe houses.

No, this kitchen wasn’t Jason’s kitchen. Too fancy, too cold.

“I very much appreciate the effort you've made by coming to the manor, I know that could not have been any harder.” it’s like a slow horror film, Alfred dries his hands on a clean dish rag that was lying next to the sink, the man turns to him and there are unshed tears clinging to the rim of the Brits eyes. “I understand that this family has more issue than most - but I - think we’re all on the right path.” Alfred reaches out his hand and places it over the one Jason is clutching the tightest. “Master Jason, I assure you, that this family wants nothing more than to see you happy.”

Jason feels like snarling but pushes it down. He really doesn’t know what to say. He wants to call Alfred out on his Bullshit, they want him happy? Yeah right, if they wanted Jason happy then the Joker would be six feet under and Jason would be … would be. fuck. He didn’t want to go down that train of thought.

_Don’t blow your cover_

“Master Jason, do please call when you get back, It would make me very happy.” Jason just nods and continues polishing the floor.

He looks at the equally as white marble tiles, glittering back at him. They’d remodeled sense Jason was last alive. There was some more color to the manor, but the gothic style was just so prevalent, even the white was black. The other colors - no doubt Damian’s preference - were harsh to look at, too much like the Moroccan training rooms he was housed in, back when he had thought Talia cared for him.

The accented carpets that covered some of the dark wooden floors are dark rich in patterns and textures that are probably more expensive than Jason’s house, silk pillows in the living rooms, gold trimmed vases added a pop of color, fresh flowers, all this could never save the manor from feeling like the house of a vampire. The whole place felt like a tomb at times.

Jason had gone to great lengths of making sure his home was inviting to him. Even if that meant dealing with Roy’s jokes. His floor was carpeted, except for the bathrooms and kitchen (obviously) his windows are large, his doors are wide. He stayed away from dark colors, light warm colors only.

He even looked into those silly feng shui books to make sure the flow of energy was good, not that he particularly believed in that, but hey, Jason would take any help he could get. He got rid of any unnecessary walls, his furnishing was comfortable, soft, and embarrassingly at times - fluffy.

He doesn’t have bookshelves of leather-bound books, nor fancy oil paintings of loved sons. He doesn’t have family heirlooms, antique furniture, priceless treasure. Nope. Not his safe place.

He’s got well-used romance novels (some are indeed signed), cheap acrylic paintings from local art shows, knitted blankets, quilts, plastic dodads decorate his shelves, his wooden furniture he made himself, pottery and glassware made from the students, pictures of his friends hung unashamed on his walls, pictures of funny moments, a snap of someone mid-bite of a hot dog, a surprised look - he loved those the most.

When he’d first come to the manor, he thought he’d walked into a castle. Each room was fancier then the next, there was a room and a place for everything. Dining room, kitchen, sitting room, living room, waiting rooms, etc all are traditional in the arrangement, he didn’t want that kind of inclosement. He didn't want to feel like royalty propped up in a castle in an enchanted hill.

His home has a short wooden fence that goes around the back yard. Young trees and hedges are placed strategic in the front for privacy. In a few years, they'll be decent enough size to cover the windows from view and Jason will never draw the curtains shut again.

Jason never wants to feel like he’s separated from society, he wants and needs to be part of the community, he needs to be more than a shadow that fights crime, or a rich guy that lives really too far away to be considered part of Gotham.

He wants to be like Barbara, Steph, and Jim Gordon, living, working, fighting in the place they all call home.

Quietly the two work together, Alfred making small talk on Jason’s woodwork, asking if Jason would make something for him. Butler themed.

It takes all his will power to not flinch when Bruce walks in - no doubt to do his ‘how are you’ ritual. Moments later Dick comes into the kitchen - did Jason say come in- he meant storms in. He stops short of screaming when he notices Jason is there with them. He sends sends Jason a tight smile.

“Little wing! Nice job with helping Alf, let me help too!” Dick for some insane reason starts wiping the kitchen cabinets down.

Yep, something is definitely going on between the two. There’s a flashback of a young Dick and Bruce yelling at each other that pops into his mind. Yikes, Jason does not want to see this again. One lifetime is enough.

He looks at Alfred, who is standing rim rod straight and pointedly not looking at any of them, the older butler is instead polishing silverware.

Oh man? Was Alfred gearing up for a fight too? Jason had only seen the after-effects of that.

Dick must have overstepped his bounds with the demon brat, he remembers Tim (long ago) saying that Dick and Bruce disagree a lot when it came to the kid. None of them seemed to disagree when the kid snuck into his safe house and nearly induced Jason into a full-blown panic attack - nope all peachy and fine. That act alone made sleeping impossible for weeks. The image of joker hiding under the blankets still spooked him. He doesn’t regret shooting the kid.

_Ok - maybe a little_

That little stunt is one of the reasons his home is located in a suburb where the houses are too far apart for roof hopping, and there’s always someone outside either smoking, jogging, making a phone call, or being plain nosey.

It's the kind of place Bruce would call a liability. Too easy to be caught. Almost impossible to sneak in unseen. All that translated as safety to Jason. He wants his neighbors to know he’s home, wants them to see him leave and go, get an idea of his schedule. That way if someone comes unannounced to Jason, one of them would ask him about his guest, or call the police if Jason never made it back home. Or god forbid, forget to trim his hedges.

He didn’t hide that he went to school, or that he was part of a book club to the neighbors, he even got Roy to dress up nice and go say hello. He was a nice single guy, that worked the swing shift for a distribution company. He likes bikes, and asked questions on gardening. Had friends, and at times barbecued. Just your regular person, nothing to look into.

“Look, Imma not sure, what go’n on - let me jus’ get out of here first, then - go ahead.”

“Master Jason, surely there’s no need for such comments.” Alfred was probably right, but Jason does love theatrics. He can’t stifle the laugh and lets a bitter cackle out.

“Little wing - go home.”

“Yeah, yeah”

Jason leaves the Manor and doesn’t look back when the kitchen door swings shut with an ominous click, his stomach aches something awful when he drives to the nearest seven eleven. Maybe after everything settles down, he’ll talk to Dr. H on switching his meds. He can’t handle it any more of this. It’ll line up with his Birthday, Roy should be gone, and he won’t patrol. He’ll just stay home - for the two-week detox- no problem.

 

**Bruce**

  
Bruce didn’t know what was better about today, Jason being with them, or hearing his second oldest laugh again. It was perhaps the first actual laugh that Bruce had heard come from the man in years. He’d heard snickers, and hums but never a laugh. Even with a particularly dark undertone, It was still sweet enough for Bruce to ignore the sound of Tim and Stephanie make their way to his room and office.

Bruce wanted to ask him to stay longer this time, he’d gathered the courage to be the one to invite his son for breakfast next week. Unfortunately, his eldest came in ready to fight him. Jason’s presence alone was the only reason Bruce didn’t have to dodge a fist.

Now though, now that his sweet boy was gone, rather stiff-legged Bruce noted. The tense fragile peace was shattered.

Dick’s hand shot out and grabbed the bottle of disinfectants wipes the hurled it straight at Bruce’s head. Bruce dodges, catches the next projectile aimed at him with ease. His forearm comes up just in time to block one of Dick’s high kicks, he used his open hand to swat the next one away.

“Bruce! What FUCK are you up to!” Dick’s face is contorted into something ugly, rageful. Bruce Sidesteps a fist, braces himself for the acrobat's muscular shoulder ramming into his chest if Bruce was a smaller man (much smaller) such a tactic would have worked, Dick was considerably shorter then Bruce and the half tackle would only be leaving a bruise. The two stayed in this position for a while. Dick screaming about how Bruce was trying to sabotage the family.

It couldn’t be any farther from the truth. Bruce wanted the unification of his family to work more than anyone. He just wanted to know Jason better, to know how to be a better father. To study his son from every angle.

“Dick - chum- calm down.” he wraps his arm around Dicks' shoulders.

“No! I’m not going to calm down! I know you’re up to something!”

“Dick - listen to me.”

“If I did that - *gasp*- I’d have one less brother!” Dicks' arms find their way around Bruce’s waste, Bruce bends his knees to lower his center of gravity. There’s a frustrated grunt under him “fight me damnit!”

“No - calm down.” Dick pushes of him and sends a roundhouse kick to his head, Bruce braces it with both arms and holds tight. trapped, Dick skids on one foot before sending a fist painfully into Bruce’s rib cage. Bruce yanks the leg above him, not high enough for his son to hit his head but high enough to send the boy crashing to the floor his back makes a loud thud sound. Bruce catches the other leg that tries to kick him, yanks that one up too.

Defeated Dick lets out what could only be called a battle cry, before twisting on the floor in an angle only a skilled acrobat could ever do and attempts to yank Bruce’s feet from under him. He fails and dangles like a fish before painfully crashing his back onto the floor.

“Calm down.” for a moment the only sound in the kitchen is of Dicks angry pants the sound of polishing silverware.

“What did you do Bruce - what are you up to?” there are tears running down eyes of the man that made Bruce a father.

“Dick, I haven’t seen Jason in months - is it so bad that I want to show some appreciation of him being here?” Dick, looks at him for a minute. “I’m doing the best I can.” He looks into the desperate blue eyes of his eldest son.

“Bruce - .” Dick lets out a breath, he’s calmer but still tense.

“Dick - I just wanted him to know how happy I am that he’s here, haven’t I waited enough to have some basic communication with him? Isn’t nearly a year enough?”

“Bruce - You don’t get it, Jason’s - fragile right now. He needs more time, things can’t go in your pace.” Dick doesn’t get a chance to say more before Tim, Steph, and Cass step into the kitchen.

“I know that I just wanted him to have a good dinner with us, I want him to see that I want him here, that this is home.” Bruce just wants to tell Jason that he’s proud of him.

Tims' face is slightly tinted red when he sees Dick on the floor, but he keeps his composure.

“His office and room don’t have anything, and Barbara has scanned his computer and cellphone.” Tim steps forward along with Cass, crouch down next to Dick. Finally, Bruce releases both legs. Dick accepts their help in getting up. His eyes never leaving Bruce’s, but there’s less anger there, more sympathy.

“I promise you Dick - I’m doing everything in my power to do right by Jason.” he places a hand on the prickly boy “I want this family to work out.” god he wants that sooo bad it hurts.

“It’s the truth,” Cassandra says, her voice a cool balm on the whole situation. There’s a brief moment of hope, a turning point in the situation.

“I don’t believe you.” the air is sucked out of the room and even Stephanie seems startled by the words that come out of herself. Bruce can see Tim’s hands tighten their hold as if trying to push back on the words. “ I don’t believe you want anything other than control.”

“Steph-” it’s Tim who looks the most hurt, ready to break at the seems from the stress of it all. Tim and Bruce handle grief the same, they hide, they obsess over the problem, and then they solve it. It’s what made them such a great team. Bruce knows that the separation between him and Jason was the most painful for him.

Tim had befriended Jason first, had loved him like a brother perhaps even before Dick. Had forgiven and learned Jason before anyone else, sans Alfred. Before Bruce had messed things up, Tim was who was the first point of contact with the Red Hood, Tim was who could call Jason Todd for favors. The two rarely got along, but there was a connection of sorts.

In all honesty, Bruce had no pretense in believing that Tim was ok with Dick taking control. For Tim, Damian belonged to Dick, as Jason belonged to him. Tim had accepted Damian through Dick, but he'd accepted Jason through himself. It couldn’t be easy, taking the back seat.

“No, if working away from you has done one thing for me, is being able to cut through your hypocrisy Bruce. - You only want control - you never want what is good for any of us - you just want what’s good for you.” her lips are thin, this might be the first real conversation she’s had with Bruce in a while, and Bruce along with everyone there can tell she’s been holding on to it for a long time. “Every time I come to these dinners, every time I see Jason and think about all he’s been through, all we’ve been through, and what he could go through if he’s back - I can remember why I faked my death, why I thought to die was better than being here.” she’s not crying, she’s not shaking like Dick was earlier.

Her words are punch Bruce could never block, it brings him back to Dick with his lost memory and being so much better, not ruined by Bruce. He tried to never think about how that made him feel, how it put his entire purpose into question. Bruce loved being a father, loved his kids. He was just bad at it, bad at being a father, he could never be as good as his own parents. His learning curve was never been overcome, his children become a reflection of that.

the blond straightens her back, Cass takes a step towards her, ready to block Stephanie’s way to Bruce. Apparently, the wrong move, Stephenie the only female former Robin, the only spoiler and the current Batgirl - Bruce’s other great mistake at mentorship, sneered at her best friend. Her normally friendly blue eyes look at Cassandra with deep disappointment.

“I’m done playing house, I’m done at looking at Jason as symbol of everything that can go wrong, a proof of what happens when the mighty BATMAN isn’t worshipped - I’m done trying to reel in a man that is clearly trying to get his life together!.” she looks at Bruce, really looks at him, for the first time in Bruce’s life he knows what it’s to be looked at like you’re trash, only Stephenie Brown teenage mother, daughter to Gotham could look at Bruce that way - like he’s totally worthless and unable to be saved “I don’t want to be part of whatever this is, leave Jason alone - you don’t deserve another chance with him, Jason deserves a life without you in it to ruin it.”

She pivots on her heels, blond hair whipping around her menacingly, storming out with all the warmth the room had had. Cassandra stood stock still, unsure of what to do.

“Perhaps it’s time to call this night to a close.” the soft clinking of silverware being put away sounds like bullet shots “I’d like to have a word with you Master Wayne - alone” the butler sends a look to the others signaling their dismissal.

  
**Jason**

 

If Jason had a penny for every time Dr. H brought up Willis, he’d make himself a copper castle.

“Jason, do you know why Willis was a bad father?”

“Cause he was a dead beat, no good hustler, that abandoned my mother and me, and got himself killed.”

“Does his death make you angry that you can’t reconcile ever.” sighing Jason just closed his eyes, this topic has been revisited quite a bit. So many times.

“Yeah - I’m pissed that he -” she clears her throat “ _we_ didn’t get a chance to hash it out, even if it would have lead to never speaking to each other and hating each other's guts - it would have been nice - to know why he wasn’t around.” _was it really that terrible to be with us_?

“I’m proud that you’ve realized this, we should also talk about how you’re probably suffering from minor kidney damage, we’ll need to run a blood test, and possibly changing your medication.”

“Give me six months and I’ll do it.”

“You’re suffering from effects that shouldn’t be showing up for a few more years, my guess is that you’ve increased the amount of stress you’re under, and it’s leading to some pretty terrible side effects. Diarrhea, restless sleep, headaches and gagging are common side effects of high stress.”

“I know that.” _maybe I should tell her about taking more than prescribed?....er... Maybe next time._

“Couple that with dry mouth, appetite increase, I’m going to tell you that you can be leading yourself to a bad kidney infection - Yes, I know that you’re Lazarus pit mumbo chumbo keeps your body healthy - it only leads me to think that you’re actually in even more pressure. Where’s the stress coming from?” she cocks her head sideways blond locks of hair sway volumeless around her head.

“I graduate in two days.”

“And?”

“My schedule is going change because of that.”

“Hmmm, are you afraid of that kind of major change?” she says like it's no big deal like Jason is a child that needs watching.

“Yea’.” what would happen to him without his schedule?

“Jason, instead of focusing on what is changing let's think about what isn’t, You’re still in Gotham, you’re still the Red Hood, you’re still volunteering, you’re still you.” Jason just nods, he knows all this, he knows, but going to school has really been a driving force for his stability, a measurement of how far he’s come.

“You can always keep taking classes if you’d like, contracting has plenty of certifications systems that are more advanced, perhaps you can fill your time with new projects, or find a part-time job?” Harley stretches her bare legs in front of Jason, sending him a wink.

“So Doc, in six months - new meds?”

Her mouth twists into a pout before she lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“No in five months, then Yes, detox will have to last for two months, one month to get the old drug out, one additional month for the new medication to take effect. I don't want you to drink, I don't want you to have any kind of stress, - more so than normal...we should stay more in touch, in case the new stuff isn't good”

“Two months? How's two months off my schedule suppos’ ta be good for me?” what if the new meds don't work?

“You don't have to do anything you don't want to Jason, it's a suggestion” Jason could snap her neck at this moment

“Whatever, I gotta go.” he doesn't bother looking back, he knows he'll do what she says, she knows that too. He pushes through the back entrance of her practice and heads out into the night.

He'd gotten an email from Gotham tech informing him that the graduation ceremony would be at 5 pm, his friends had signed him up for walking in the ceremony. It seemed like a good idea at the time, now though - when it's so close, he's practically begging for some kind of emergency to make it so he can't make it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, it’s just that Jason has never graduated from anything before, he'd died before finishing high school, got his GED certificate via mail when he got his cap and gown earlier that day, - it had all felt so real. Too real. He looked at his friends and felt a pang of regret. He regretted not spending more time with them, not doing more GTC events, he'd miss the late night cram sessions, phone calls after exams, gossip and bitching. It was going to hurt to lose their constant presence in his life.

They weren't the Outlaws by no means, but they are something else, something a younger Jason would have needed. he hadn't had any friends growing up. Not in school and not as Robin. He wasn't and isn't easy to like, Dick was the one everyone wanted, he was just the means in which they could get Dick. No one ever truly wanted Jason, he'd always had to earn his keep.

It was a sore spot, one of the reasons it had taken him so long to trust Roy and Kori - he had felt for the longest time as a replacement, again. God, it had taken him so long to believe Roy, to not think of him as a potential spy, and Kori, he'd downright despised her for a while. Even now, after so many years together - after so much pain, love and trust shared. It would always make Jason ache to remember how as Robin he'd been dismissed by both, their loyalty to Dick making it so Jason’s very presence was barely tolerated. The Titans had hated Jason, it was confirmed when he realized how much they love Tim and Damian. Jason isn’t a person who is easy to love. He knows that now. He wishes he’d known that then.

He hopes there’s never a day the two former Titans have to pick between Dick and Jason. Jason knows how that will end. He’s not sure he’d survive the heartache.

When Biz and Artemis came around, Jason had felt possessive of the two. These guys belonged to him, not Dick. It had given him a taste of friendship he had never had, to be the first pick. Those two are his, they’re the Red Hoods teammates no one else's. He dreaded anytime his team could come in contact with the Bats, his stomach would swoop low and his heart would hurt. Thank god they never did meet, and when the time came, Biz and Artemis showed who they stood by.

Now, his friends from GTC had given him a glimpse of what it would have been like to have friends without the costume. They're Jason Todd the street kids first friends. They liked Jason Todd as nothing else but the cras street kid, he fits in effortlessly for the first time in his life. He didn’t want to let them go.

He spends the rest of the evening walking aimlessly through Gotham, feeling bad for himself. But also feeling happy.

He was graduating, he hadn't told anyone about him walking, he was sure Roy knew that he'd be getting his certificate soon, but with everything going right for once for the man, Jason refused to ask him to show. And yeah, Dick patrolling with Jason made it so he definitely didn’t want the Red archer showing up.

It was really for the best, he'd walk then go home and get ready for the drop. His shipment had made it in smoothly in, everything was going to plan. He'd already checked out his clientele, hired the appropriate people, his knights are all in position. It's almost embarrassing to see how well things work for him when he stays medicated.

Those two months of detox - downright terrified him. He was going to have to micromanage everything from home, put his men on high alert, expect them to be ready for the RedHood to disappear due to the Bats (it's his excuse for most things) snooping looking for his hideout.

When the day of the Graduation Ceremony came, Jason tried to pretend he hadn’t dropped a considerable amount of money on his tux. That he hadn’t ironed his gown to perfection and decorated his cap with GTC logo and year. Jason got his picture snapped holding a diploma case, looked out into the see of people and pretended to make eye contact with someone there for him, blinking back tears, he took a few selfies with his friends, made promises to keep in touch with them. He lied about celebrating with his family at home and waved off the invitations to joining their own families for dinner.

He felt weird, walking out with his formal clothing under his gown, his two-toned hair slicked back and his shoes polished. For a moment he let himself think about how it would have felt at 18 years old as a normal kid with his mother looking proudly at him. Would they have had a small dinner? Would she had whispered about how Jason was the only one to have ever graduated in his family? Would she have taken a million pictures, cheered for him as he walked across the stage?

Jason, thought about a lot that night. He imagined those alternative universes where he, Catherine and even Willis could have been happy. He even let himself image a universe where Bruce (one that loved him) had helped put on his tie, and Alfred slicked his hair back. He really hopes the Jasons in those worlds knows how lucky they are.

He got home and lounged around his house still in his graduation robe, maybe he was a little more than proud of himself, maybe he wanted to have the moment last as long as possible. Every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection he startled himself with how wide his smile is. He caves in and takes pictures of himself. They’re corny and he laughs about how silly he’s become over a piece of paper.

Damning his self-control, three boxes of pizza are order along with a Liter of Coke, he put on pride and prejudice, dimmed the lights and let himself just enjoy his accomplishments - he did it. He graduated.

Two months later, and Jason still can't believe how well everything is going. He's so ashamed at himself for daring to think he could have done anything without his pills. Jason really was a selfish prick. Mic and Mabel deserved more than Jason.

He learned long ago that his body could betray him, it's a bitter pill to swallow again.

His shops are now fully operational, he's gotten his Red Knights to an acceptable level of Independence, but still dependent on his protection. He thinks by the end of the year he'll a practicing contractor - he'll then work till he's built a credible clientele, open up a small business and start money laundering.

Jason likes to think he's a bad guy that does good things.

 

**BRUCE**

 

he hasn't driven in weeks, Alfred picks him up and drops him off at WE, walks Bruce to his office door, and picks him up at the office door. Tim has lunch with him, both with pre-packed lunches from Alfred because Bruce can’t go out to eat anymore, and has recently started showing up in board meetings. Bruce has no doubt that Red Robin will be patrolling alongside Batman tonight.

He said nothing to Alfred of what he had been doing, but Bruce could tell Alfred had his suspicions if the Blue chest currently missing from his study was any indication. As much as he wants it back, he won’t dare ask for it. Alfred had informed him that Jason wouldn’t be coming over for a while until Bruce proved to be able to behave himself. That had nearly cost Bruce his resolve - he nearly jumped to argue his point.

Year of training was the only thing that kept him from revealing any information to Alfred. Even with how the Butler bated him with casual questioning during the drive home. Bruce would not crack - he couldn’t keep tabs on Jason anymore. He had no way of knowing if his son had passed his exams. When the date of the Graduation had rolled in and Bruce was in such a foul mood he didn’t bother speaking to his most trusted family member. Alfred for his part pushed harder with more question to no avail.

He just wanted one picture, one of Jason in his gown, one of him holding his certificate, one of him with his friends or walking across the stage. He burned to have it, it was desire so sticky and black that he nearly did tell Alfred. Ruining all of his hard work.

Later that day, when eating dinner with Damian and Tim, Bruce pretended that there was another son sitting there with them, with a cap on his head and goofy grin.

 

**Jason**

 

There’s a ribbon cutting ceremony in lower Gotham’s plaza. It’s funny seeing the mayor and the upper crust of Gotham socialites in the dinky plaza, where the clumpy bits of grass is freshly cut (the first time Jason had ever seen that in his life) and the city had come in and cleaned up the garbage and pushed the homeless out for the day. The usually dry fountain had a pathetic amount of water spluttering from the middle. They had erected a stage and balloons are tied to the ancient trees that have managed to survive the years of neglect.

He wasn’t planning on coming, he’s not one to want to hang out in crowds. But - his former classmates wanted to hang out and Jason didn’t want to say no. He’s with Terry and Jeana pretty standard people, really plain if compared with the outlaws, capes, and villains Jason frequents. Yet, he likes to reminisce with them about classes and work.

It’s the first hot day of the year, and Jason is wearing shorts and a fraying wife beater, his tattooed arms Glisson with sunscreen and he’s kicking himself for forgetting his sunglasses. Terry and Jeana have about as much class and Jason does, both in beat-up sneakers, worn out shorts and Jeana’s t-shirt has a hole in one of the armpits. They’re planning on playing in the pick-up game later on today, Jeana keeps absentmindedly dribbling the basketball.

Jason had been a little excited, community events are pretty much nonexistent in this part of Gotham. Seeing the bounce houses, food vendors, colorful assortment of games and even a lineup of local bands was bizarre. Jason felt like he's stumbled into a dream. There are kids - lower Gotham kids - running around with ice cream bars, and street kids pickpocketing heavy wallets. There’s even the occasional family laughing and enjoying themselves. His eyes almost mist over when he sees a willowy redhead woman holding the hand of a scrawny child.

Up ahead, the mayor steps out of a new Cadillac and starts shaking hands and taking pictures, and Jason knows that his people are really there for the free slice of cake and watered down lemonade that's being handed out near her. Maybe a few were there to see the new shiny bulletproof, ‘thief’ resistant cameras that are now permanently welded into the many corners and walls of alleys ways across parts of the Bowery.

Jason had to admit, the pure look of aw in some faces, was well worth the investment, even if it had cost him twice the amount it should have. _Fucking politician._

He and his friends began to blend behind people as soon as more socialites started showing up. The rich coming to see what’s new and shiny for the poor. He hated seeing them, seeing his people being pushed to the side so they could get the best spots. He moves farther back when he sees the commissioner show up. No doubt by the glint in the man’s eyes he’s not amused with how things are going either.

“Ain’t this some shit?” Terry grumbled out, Jason’s about to say something when it happens.

Jason’s luck runs out - and Tim and Bruce walk up the podium to greet the mayor. Jason tries to step back, to push his way but there are too many people to not draw the eyes of the police, Tim’s the first one to spot him. His eyes widen a fraction of a millimeter, no one else would have noticed it unless they knew Tim. Almost immediately Bruce terns to see what got his sons reaction and spots Jason in the crowd. The three make eye contact.

_Awkward._

What’s more awkward is being caught with a mouthful of free cake.

By some miracle, Mayor Leen was finally of some use, along with the others, and they clambered to get photos with the Waynes, momentarily taking the rich men's attention of off Jason.  
  
Not that Jason could get out, he was stuck with his friends flanking both sides of him, laughing about something Jason couldn't hear over the pounding of his own heart.

Thud

Thud

Thud

Jeanna bounces the basketball again, it knocks Jason back into reality - he's not going to run away - he's done nothing wrong. He takes a swig of lemonade. He's going to have fun with his friends, is going to eat all the corndogs he can get his hands on.

They're not going to ruin this for him. In the distance he sees the woman and her kid, eating cake and slowly drinking their lemonade. I’m not going to ruin this.

“Soon as this here speech is done, le's go practice, k?” Jason nods his head

“Naw, les go now - who cares ‘bout what these guys got ta say?” The best thing that ever comes out Jeana's mouth.

The three make their way out of the crowd, he ignores the pair of eyes following him.

 

**Bruce**

 

It had been Alfred to inform them during one night on the patrol. He'd casually asked when they were going to be hooked up the system. Batman had then immediately commed Oracle. Who was also surprised.

CCTV in the Bowery? Batman paid the commissioner a visit that night

The very next day, Bruce Wayne called the Mayor's office.

Tim was the first to push for an event, WE sponsored. He even hired the event coordinator and made personal phone calls. Bruce is pretty sure Tim is doing it as an apology to Stephanie. Bruce had swallowed his pride and called the girl yesterday. His ears are stilling ringing from the call. It had gone as well as it could have, she still thinks they should leave Jason alone, but understand that Bruce is socially inept and unable to make basic human connections. He promised her that he does indeed want the best for Jason and that no, she wasn't invited simply to reel the man it - she was always welcomed in the manor. 

If only Bruce could have a conversation with Jason the same way he can with Stephanie.

Tim on the other hand - was apparently trying to make up for abandoning her, or what not. Bruce could never keep up with Tim's love life.

She's supposed to be showing up later on, to watch Tim be dunked into a tank. Bruce was only there to get closer to the server, hack in and get out. Get his hands on the blueprint of where the cameras are going to be placed. Bruce wasn’t dumb, he knows the visible ones are for show, they’re most likely hidden ones placed wherever the unknown benefactor wanted them.

Bruce had no idea who had funded such a project. He’d never been willing to pay the price for that. The one time he’d looked into putting a camera in Crime alley (just one), he realized he’d be funding the drug lords, and paying for new cars, new homes, for crooks. Not to mention that it would most likely be busted every day, and used as an excuse to siphon out taxpayer money.

Whoever paid, put a lot of money. Way more than it was worth, and most likely for dubious things. They’d have to outbid the opponents such as the Russian mob and Falcone AND bribe the mayor. One look at the level of security and how it was placed let Bruce know that this was not Mayor Leen’s idea, this was high-grade precision cameras smaller than lemon, encased in bulletproof glass containers welded in just the right angle to prevent vandalism and stealing. 100% wireless no cords to cut, with an encrypted password that is sure to give Oracle a headache.

They are far more sophisticated than your average street cam.

What he hadn’t expected, and by the look of Tim’s face neither had he. Was finding Jason in the Crowd with is friends - looking equally as surprised. Tim to Bruce’s surprised hurriedly whispered to Bruce not to let Dick know about this. And left Bruce to his own devices while they took pictures and chatted up people.

Bruce could feel the familiar thrill pile up on his spine, his eyes never left Jason as his boy talked to his friends. Jeana and Terry if Bruce remembered correctly, the two came from good middle-class families and Bruce to his limited exposure of Jason’s interactions with them, thinks they’re rather good influences on Jason. Unlike Debra and John who smoked pot and partied too much.

His clothing, and the basketball being dribbled by Jeana indicated that the three must be in the upcoming pickup game. Tim shoots him a look, as Bruce makes his way to the court. Tim follows behind him.

“B - I don’t think this is a good idea.” Bruce notices another tattoo on his son, his left leg has one behind the knee cap, and there’s a long scar on the other leg. He’d memorized the color and size of the ones located on his son's arms, he sure most of his other kids have too.

“I’m just going to say hello.” The pale wife beater his son is has on is low enough to reveal the pale scar of Bruce’s mistake across Jason’s neck, there are more pale lines across the boy's shoulders. More data.

“Dick will kill us both, let's just get back in the car.” Jason’s shoes need to be replaced. He'd have to approach this problem in a different way.  

“Do you want to play?” he’d like to play ball with his son

“Excuse-” does Jason like to play basketball?

“There’s a slot open, we just need one more player.”

“Are you nuts?” Bruce could laugh at Tim

“I’m signing Stephenie up with us.” She’s a good ball player, Bruce had seen her teach Cassandra not too long ago. Their team name is TEAM #1

“This isn’t happening.” Tim looks flushed out

“Ok, all signed up.”

“Bruce - this can’t be a healthy response.” according to Alfred, Bruce doesn’t know what a healthy response is.

“We better get a change of clothing.”

Tim could say what he wanted, he could lie and say that Bruce forced him. But anyone that knows Tim Drake - Wayne was that he never did what he didn’t want to do. His second youngest barely put up a fight before heading to the car and pulling out spare clothing. Bruce might even say he saw a smile on the young man's face when Stephanie showed up and heard the news.

Bruce, Steph, and Tim stretched their muscles and pretended to be completely at home with the rest of the teams.

“This is crazy,” Stephanie says while looking at Bruce.

“Completely crazy” Tims laughs, “This is possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.” Tim’s cracking and Bruce doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m going to say hi to Jason, you know, so he doesn’t think we’re stalking him.” She waves Bruce off before he has a chance to say he wants to go with her. There’s pity in her eyes, and she clearly thinks Bruce has lost his mind. “You two wait here, try not to embarrass me." she turns, Bruce catches her mumbling "team #1, why did you get to pick the name?”

They watch her weave through the court and head straight to Jason. By the time she came back, she looked to be more at ease and informed them that Jason wasn’t upset to have them there. Bruce can’t help but smile.

His luck must be turning.

The games worked out pretty simple, it was a three on three, half court game. Ten teams, one winner. The winners get free t-shirts and a 50$ gift certificate to an ice cream shop. The first round was easily won by both teams.

Team # 1 was living up to their name, and Bruce was thrilled to see Jason’s team moving up the ranks with them...even if the name left a lot to be desired. Jason should have never agreed to be part of a team called “The shaft”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, thanks so much for the comments and reminders. I've been really busy these last weeks, the next look to be as miserable. I'm so thrilled that you guys like this fic, I hope to keep each and every one of you guys support. 
> 
> In this chapter and the next, I'm going to focus on Jason's Crime Lord persona, as well as his and Roy's relationship. 
> 
> If anyone can give me a straight answer to how Jason and Tim went from enemy to friend, to frinamy to strangers that would be great. Canon for those two is hard to get a straight answer. 
> 
> Also, I forgot about essences .... woops. Let just pretend she never was around. 
> 
> I love you guys!


	7. On this night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason learns about himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I'm sorry it took me so long, I really struggled with this chapter, I'm still not happy with how it came out, but didn't want to hold on to it for too long in fear of it resulting in me never posting again (been there done that)  
> Things to know about this chapter. I'm diverting from canon, Willis is dead, dead dead. Not in any way shape or from alive with metahuman powers with a possibility of having been killed by Artimus. Because I think the writers are determined to make Jason alone and miserable. second I have not forgotten about Jason's ex-girlfriends (other than essence that's my bad), I just put them in two categories - relationships done when Jason was young and rebellious and wants to piss Bruce off and relationships Jason has when he thinks he's can ignore glaring problems in his life, and she more prop then person. They do and will make appearances. 
> 
> Finally, I based this chapter from a really good documentary called "mind the gap" if you've got a chance of seeing it, do please. if you've watched it you'll see similarities. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. I do read them all.

Chapter 7

 

Jason hadn't put much thought on Stephanie's team playing in the tournament. He simply told himself that this would help with his mission, solidify his good behavior with the Bats. 

 

For the most part, he'd focused on the games, ignoring the crowd that clearly showed up to watch Stephanie's team play. To Jason's amusement, they didn't get to play each other. How could they when they'd been hustled by real basketball players. The shaft beat their first opponents, made it into the third rounds before being squashed by WMBA players. He’s not sure if the two women and the 7-foot giant were actual pros, but The Shaft had no chance. 

 

Terry was still fuming enough after the game he’d headed straight to the refs, making Jason cringed at the spectacle being caused by his friend.

 

“Aw common! Ref, them guys are like 9 feet and a shit load of talent - we've been hustled!”

 

Jason stands off to the side, he really doesn’t want to get involved. Steph stands next to him also looking at the spectacle. 

 

“Good game, too bad we didn't get to face off.” 

 

“Yea’ probly for the best.”  _ I missed my chance of elbowing Tim in the face _

 

Terry's face is now deep red Jeana is trying to pull him back. Jason steps forward; he may need to step in.

 

“Hey, Terry! Come on man - les go!” He looks at the blond to his left,  barely seeing the two other figures standing a little further behind. He can feel a headache; he's not going home tonight. One of them had been stalking him; the weight of familiar eyes confirms it. He can't risk either of them finding his home.

 

“Nice see'n ya today Steph” he swallows the growl that wants to escape. “Tim, Bruce - good game.” He thinks he hears Tim say likewise, but all he notices are Bruce's eyes. There's a shiver that threatens Jason's remaining sanity.  _ So it was you old man. I should have figured.  _

 

For the mission, play your cards right - and you'll be free. He knows that Bruce hasn’t been following him recently, and that his home is still hidden. He doesn’t allow himself to panic, panic would ruin everything. Instead, he pushes the green flush of rage from his head, and lets himself relax. 

 

“Ya guys wanna come?” He only wants to get them away from the main server, if only to hold the bats off of his camera system for a few more hours. The mayor had made a big show of pulling out one of the servers from a secure location and officially ‘turning it on’ during the opening ceremony. It’s the dumbest political stunt he’d ever seen, not to mention it’s the trap door people like Tim would exploit. Jason was pretty sure the two Wayne’s showed up for that very reason, hell, the two probably suggested it. 

 

**Bruce**

 

They follow Jason to an ice cream parlor, a tiny hole in the wall place with peeling paint and a cracked front window. Not a place Bruce thinks would pass any FDA regulation. Not that he cares at the moment, he's too excited to be with his son right now. 

 

To Bruce’s relief Terry's girlfriend showed up and he left to cool off at the carnival games, Jeana had gone to pick up her younger brother with a promise to be back soon. Both hadn't noticed that Bruce and Tim were standing to the side. Most likely due to cops showing up to see if there were any problems. There had been a moment that Bruce thought all three of them were going to take off running. Jason’s body was tense enough to suggest that he may have been contemplating it.  Thankfully none of them did. 

 

And now here they are, with waffle cone ice creams sitting on park bench.  

 

“So, ya guys 'ere for the new cams” Tim looks at the Jason.

 

“Are you?”

 

“Naw, I came ‘ere for the free cake” Jason's quirks an eyebrow, Bruce tells himself not to ruffle both his boy's hair. Jason would freak out and Tim... would freak out too. 

 

Stephanie rolls her eyes; there's fondness there. Bruce's chest tightens pleasantly, and he's happy that he called her.  If it had just been them two without the blonde, Jason would have never suggested ice cream. 

 

Speaking about ice cream, Bruce regrets his previous thoughts; it's pretty good ice cream. Not as great as some that he's had, but damn good for a mom and pop shop in this part of Gotham. Plus they know Jason by name - more data for Bruce. 

 

Jason guides the group to a bench; the sun warms Bruce's face, the boisterous teasing from Stephanie can be heard over the sound of his rushing blood, Tim's voice mingles with hers. It's so nice Bruce wishes to stop time for a bit.

 

**Jason**

 

“It has a hell of encryption,” Tim says, he's trying to see if Jason has had access to the cams server protection.  Jason hummed, the encryption he'd put in was sure to piss Barbara off for a while. She'd break it, but Jason does like to remind himself that he's trained in coding too. 

 

“you look good” well, shoot Jason with a feathery gun; Bruce can say more than a how are you. 

 

“Yea’, ya look good too.” He tells his stalker  _ Play nice, be nice, you'll get what you want  _

 

Bruce nods his head, and Tim who's been eating his coffee ice cream smiles around a month full of waffle cone. Jason's not sure if he knows what he's feeling. _ Mostly rage - a desire to murder.  _

 

The four find a bench to sit it, the concrete is warm from the sun, and they can still see the festival in full swing. As per usual it's Stephanie breaks the silence. 

 

“Leg tattoos huh?”

 

“Yep, ya got any yourself?”  She laughs as she shows off her nontattooed legs, the pink shorts she wears remind Jason of how young she is. Too young to be involved in this.

 

She's good, in a way Jason can relate to. A real scrapper, strong despite all the bullshit thrown her way. She reminds him of Scarlett, of Barbara, of Kori. He hopes that girls like Stephanie are around forever. 

 

_ If it makes you happy, do it _

 

_ No shame in using them _

 

_ No shame in playing by ear _

 

Dr. H’s voice bounces in his head.

 

_ No triggers _

 

_ No Shame _

 

Jason doesn't think about the ice cream; he doesn't think about the carnival rides, the corndogs or the way he feels once everyone is gone. His mind is a mess; he can't go home tonight - he knows they’re trying another one of their traps.  This mission may be the most important one he'll ever have. He needs this to work. So he goes to his safe house and tries to sleep through the nightmares. 

 

The next morning Alfred calls, he asks Jason if yesterday went ok. Jason manages to say yes. 

 

Jason’s calendar has a new set of stickers; he's managed to start creating a new routine - revolving around creating his crime empire. He might go clubbing again; he hasn't gone since Mick and Mabel dead. He still has a free day to do nothing; he keeps busy.

 

It's been five months, since he graduated. He gets off his meds. He's decided to do most of his work at home. A good portion of being a crime Lord is paperwork and number crunching. It's a real shame that no one mentions that part in movies. 

 

Phone Meetings, training, record keeping, bookkeeping, so much paperwork. The key, as he'd learned from Black Mask is to do a little of all of it, just enough to scare your accountants from slipping up - from Talia, he'd learned to do it all and break the hands of the dumbass that tried to cut corners. 

 

Jason ramps up his therapy sessions with Dr. H; he's going to need her more until his medication problem is solved. He's not going to get cocky again. Unfortunately, this means more time with Harley. 

 

**Therapy sessions #1 - week one since last dose**

 

“Jason explain to me your relationship with Willis.”

 

“Why don't ya tell me watcha wanna 'ear and I'll tell ya?” Jason drawls, he's starting to wonder if Harley does have a hard-on for Willis. The arch of her painted eyebrow tell him enough.

 

“Start from the beginning.” 

 

“ Do I ‘ave ta?” she crosses her pale legs. 

 

Later that night Jason starts putting more stickers on his calendar, an orange one for every day he didn't have a meltdown. It's a reminder for how much he can do without the medication. They're also mostly used to keep track of the days, as soon as he finishes the pack of orange stickers the new meds will be introduced. 

 

The days pass by agonizingly slow, paper work, phone calls, quick day time visit to gangsters that need their teeth loosened. It's painful and boring. Just what Jason needs to stay stable. He manages to start the upgrading of his dinky motel called ' La Casa ’, it's a pathetic 150 bedroom motel, two-floor structure, with a small pool and reception/dining area. Still, he changes the carpet, replaces lamps, toilets, light bulbs. Re-tiles the pool and hires a pool boy. The manager has no idea the handyman assigned to the job is the actual owner of the place. 

 

He's hired a few other hands to paint the walls, redo the roof and change the windows. It's by no means the Ritz Carlton, but it's good enough for families to stop by during a long car trip. The sheets are clean, the rooms are warm, and there is free breakfast included. There's a total of 7 housekeepers, one groundskeeper, a cook, the manager, and a security guard. He doesn't know if the place will hold its own, he's got no idea how to manage a hotel. He's pretty sure the motel six across the road will have ' La Casa ’ out of business again. 

 

No matter, he'll use it as another port of entry for laundering money.

 

It's the night before the 'grand reopening’ of  La Casa  when he feels it. The jittery electric feeling of being off his meds, that alive moment that nearly ruined everything for him. He finishes quickly and heads home. He will not be checking in tomorrow to see how the first guest is doing. He'll call the manager instead of as the boss and enquire on the status in a week. 

 

**Therapy sessions # 2:  2 weeks since the last dose.**

 

“Jason describe what you think a father does?” 

 

“Da fucks that got ta-”

 

“Would you prefer we talk about mother figures?”

 

“No! - ugh - fine.” 

 

Jason learns that night that his yard needs to be kept better. He spends the remaining days out of the week gardening and doing business by the phone. At this point in his life, he might as well start putting curlers in his hair, and get himself a light pink mumu. 

His back is sweaty, as he finds himself pulling out weeds from his rose patch, he’s got one of those Bluetooth headphones on, and he grumbles to his bookie about the importance of keeping several copies of records. That no - burning paperwork does not help with keeping them hidden, no - he doesn’t want to keep everything on paper, yes - the server is safe to use. No - Jason wasn’t going to break his jaw for minor clerical mistakes (he would be breaking his neck if money starts missing) He calls his lawyers to see who’s got their hands on the permits for owning the toxic waste plant located by the docs. Business is taking off, and money is rolling in faster than Jason could keep secret, others are noticing - he needs to go out and lay down the iron fist, he’s starting to understand why Black mask killed off his workers after a specific amount of time. Figuring out pay scales are a bitch. 

 

He's pretty sure his garden is going to be a mess of too many vegetables, not enough flowers come harvesting time. He wanted to have a herb area, but got frustrated and threw the seeds at random into the plot of soil.  Alfred would not be impressed.

 

He’s debating about just pouring concrete for his backyard. It’s a real pain in the ass maintaining a yard. No wonder Alfred has a team of gardeners. Jason’s knows he was going to regret the rows of zucchini he planted. He makes another phone call - this one to the motel. 

 

By the time he's all done with the front yard the sun is setting, he draws himself a salt bath and lights his scented candles. The light dim, he puts on his favorite podcast. It's how he likes to relax, no more phone calls tonight. 

 

**Therapy session #3 : 3 weeks after the last dose**

 

He's standing up; his shoulders are red from the sunburn he got working his backyard - maybe he can ask Roy to make him something - anything, like a neighborhood safe flamethrower. Dr. H is lounging on her desk; her long pale blond hair shimmered with sparkles. 

 

“Jason-what are you afraid of- just put your shiny red helmet on and go kick some ass.”

 

“Kick some ass? I wanna go and snap some necks - is jus - I'm not ya now - 100%.” She snorts, her arms stretched above her head, and Jason fights the urge to trace her body with his gaze. 

 

“You've never been 100%.” her blue eyes flash with mock concern, “It’s not like you were anything but crazy after your dip in a Lazarus pit - ya did alright from there.”  

 

They share a look; he knows she’s not mocking him. By her standards, Jason has done alright. But there’s something about the statement, something about how it bounces around in his head, that makes a question bounces that Jason has been shoving down and dreading to ask for a long time. The question that he knows the answer to, but wishes for another result. 

 

“Do ya think - I was like this- before-the pit?”  _ yes, I know I was _

 

“Hard ta say sugar, I didn’t know you before, at least not as I do now.” her lips press into a thin line “your condition is tricky- easily confused for teenage hormones, stress, trauma.- Nurture vs. Nature ya know?. To be honest, your life has had trauma from the beginning, Jason. The little I know about your parents could indicate heredity as well - it’s a tuffy.”  Jason just nods his head. He knows the truth he knows he’s been sick before the pit; he’s read a lot on the subject, he’s compared himself against a lot of others. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Why you're sick?” 

 

He looks away; he can’t look at her, he’s never asked her directly, never mentioned his suspicions to her. Maybe it’s because it would send her into another scavenger hunt of emotional nuggets hidden in Jason’s mind. 

 

“You’ve always been negative ya know? Strong, stubborn, hard working, tenations, compassionate, willing to do what most don't - but you’re negative, always thinking you’re not enough.” 

 

“I wish I wasn't” he can barely speak above a whisper “Others get a shit hand in life, and make lemonade - me though - I’ve always tried to see how bad it can get - I try to find out how low is rock bottom.” Maybe that’s why it was so hard to be with Dick and the Bats. It was hard to see how optimistic others are compared to Jason’s brand of pessimism. “I just always think - well fuck it.” and the world was always all too eager to show Jason just how much worse it can get, and Jason always rose to the challenge - because - well, fuck it. 

 

“You've got a strong case of memory repression and dissociation too - it's your survival mechanism to focus on the bad to protect yourself, you remove yourself. The complete opposite of me.” She shrugs likes it's no big deal. 

 

“I think I've always been this way.” She humms

 

“Jason - let’s talk about Willis.” Jason sighs, at least talking about Willis was familiar territory.

 

It’s about six in the morning the next day when Jason decides that the Red Hood empire needed a nail salon. He makes a call and spends the rest of the day laughing on his cell with Roy. He stays inside his home, watches movies and works out in his basement. Each day is longer than the last. He orders his groceries online and doesn’t go farther than his mailbox. 

 

When Alfred calls the next day, Jason is washing dishes after eating a poor excuse for a meal. 

 

“Master Jason, it is a joy to hear your voice.” The butler's voice had a sweet pitch to it, “I assume all have been well?”

 

“Oh yea’ all good” Alfred's superpower must have kicked in because there is a pause and a sigh

 

“Master Jason, I hope you are not eating corndogs and cotton candy every day, dear boy - miss brown informed me of your extraordinary appetite the other day at the fair - what did you have for lunch that I can hear you scrapper the Teflon off the pan?”  _ Busted  _

 

“Well … alfy - I'm - the flame was too high and I - don't normally.”

 

“Cooking while distracted leads to disaster master Jason, I expect that mistake from the others, never you.” Alfred is not mad, Jason knows, the older man is just poking fun, amused at Jason's expense. Alfred, after all, knows how a good Jason is at cooking.

 

“Yeah yeah, whatcha doin Sir Pennyworth” there's a sputtering sound at the other end. 

 

“Sir - me? You very well know such titles are given by royal decree the greatest of honors, why i-”Jason just laughs, there's a huff at the other end “well, I hope you've enjoyed your game, young man.” 

 

“I have, thank you - is everything ok?”

 

“All is well; I've called to invite you for dinner tomorrow evening, as you well know Miss Kyle and master Bruce are tentatively figuring things out, it would be nice for everyone to be here.” To put Salina at the mercy of fully assembled Bat clans - well played Alfred, but I'm not playing this game. Selina was being smart about joining a pack of loons. 

 

“Imma sorry Alf, I can't - I.”  _ Think, think of something _ “got injured, my hip is pretty messed up.”

 

“Oh my, is master Harper there to help? Describe 'messed up’ to me; perhaps I may pass by?”  _ Of all the lies I could tell _

 

“Nothing terrible, I'm just mostly in bed or sitting. A few more weeks and I'll be good as new, Roy comes and goes, I'm really fine, don't mind me.” 

 

“Master Jason, if your injuries are too great for you to leave your home, I could bring you food and-”

 

“Alfred, really - I'm ok; I'll give you a call when I'm all good to go.”

 

“Like the call, I was supposed to get when you came back from your trip with Roy?”  _ Savage  _

 

“Ah come on Alfy, I was gonna call.” 

 

As days passed by, Jason spent it crunching numbers on spreadsheets, and bitching about his garden. He’s put in a bird bath and bird feeders, and barbecues for the remaining of the week. 

 

He’s been thinking about his life lately, the first one and the present one he’s in. He thinks about his six rules, and wonders if hormesis is what the Bat-clan will be for him? He’s willing to use them for his own needs, but - give an inch to them….well he needs to make his choice. He can’t be in this spot forever, Bruce won’t let it happen. He known, sense the day at the grand opening Jason’s willingness to spend the day with him will be looked as Jason's surrender. That all things are forgiven, that Jason is willing to bow his head and fall back in line. And yeah, some part of Jason, the tiny part that wants to be loved, that wants to feel like Robin all over again, wants to. Wants to just to give in, be the lapdog that Batman desires. 

 

The larger part, the part that knows how unhealthy intense his willingness for exceptense is - pushes Jason onto his feet and get in his car. He drives far out of Gotham, to the county line. He’s never been here, Catherine had never brought him, Jason had never wanted to go see 

Willis at the county jail. But here he is - almost twelve years after he’d last seen Willis. 

 

It's cold and gloomy and Jason can’t believe he’s making his way through rows of headstones - again. Each cheap grave marker is barely engraved, dates and names faintly informing people of who lies there. He remembers the day Willis died, he can still hear his mother crying, Mabel had come around that night, soothed Catherine's heartache, and when he asked - she even gave Jason his first cigarette. 

 

He’d been so angry, so bitter, and most of all disappointed. Willis had died, and Jason knew that his life was going to get worse. Willis had died that was it -Cathrine lasted a whole six months after, and Jason become an orphan and homeless. 

 

They didn’t have the money to claim the body; the state took care of it. He knows at some point Catherine, and him, had come to visit - maybe a few months before she died. He knows because it was the only day she didn’t use the little money they had for drugs, and spent it on two bus passes and a Happy Meal for Jason.  His memory of the grave is grainy at best, he can remember feeling proud of himself for shoving a fist full of ketchup packets into his pocket, and making his mother eat most the fries. But the rest - not much. 

 

It’s an hour later, and Jason still hasn’t found Willis. At first, he laughs, laughs at the fact that the old bastard is still making things hard for him. But ones the day starts to cool, and the next row proves to be filled with more strangers, the laughter stops

 

_ Where the fuck are you? _

 

He picks up the pace; he knows he’s at the right place - it has to be. There aren’t other prison cemeteries around - everywhere else cremates. He knows Willis has a grave!  _ Just like I have one too.  _

 

It’s another hour, and the damn place is massive, and Jason’s breaths come out in shallow puffs, and he’s started running. Row after row, calling out the man’s name, looking at names, and tombstones barely kept, he panics, wonders if the headstone letters have weathered away, he gets on his knees and traces letters with shaking fingers. He screams in frustration when he realizes that there are plaques on the ground and he’s not sure if Willis had a plaque or a stone. In the frenzy of standing, running, tracing, cursing he trips on a stack of rubble, he awkwardly landed on his knees let out a string of curse words -  hurriedly he tried to reassemble the weathered stone back together, lets it drop ounces he realizes just an old cherub statue. His knee hurts but he continues going. 

 

His mind finally coming to terms with the damning realization that he does, and always has - cared for Willis. It’s not the same kind of care he has for his mother. No, never. He loves Catherine, no argument against that. What he feels for Willis is complicated. On the one hand he was never around, was physically/verbally abusive to his mother, at times towards Jason on the other hand - he never abandoned Jason, provided him and his mom with food and shelter taught Jason how to read and count and was present for holidays. 

 

And if Jason let himself think, look past all the negative memories he can remember Willis and Catherine laughing together; he can remember him giving Jason haircuts with gently placed hands. 

 

The worst thing about remembering was connecting lines to dots he hadn’t known where there. Like how a poor man took a son in with his Junky wife. How he’d stay late nights and sometimes weeks away to scrounge up money for his wife and son. Even if it was petty crime, even if it was drug running, he’d tried. More so than Jason can say for Catherine. 

 

Being entirely fair Jason isn’t sure if presented with the same situation he would have taken a son in. Poor + drug addict wife + son from a one night stand; yeah not happening on Jason’s watch. His mental state would have cracked into a million pieces.  _ Maybe it was that hard to be with us?  _

 

Then there are the possible connections between Jason’s illness and Willis. If Willis was afflicted with manic depression like Jason, then the rage, frustration, and reckless behavior from Willis had a whole other dimension. There would have been no way for Willis to have gotten help - he was doomed from the start if its the case. 

 

He’s not excusing the abuse, no - that should have never happened, but maybe he can understand it. Jason had killed during his manic episodes, tried to kill Tim, Dick, Damian, and Bruce. Even without the Pit, Jason would have still been volatile to work with. He was no saint. He would even admit that he never holds it against people when they lash out violently at him. Even Bruce, he’d let the throat slashing incident pass without a second glance. Just like he thought that they had put Jason’s past indiscretions behind them. Nope 

 

Jason’s gripe with Bruce is not the violence; it’s the intent,  that makes him hate the man. Of all the backhanders Willis had delivered across his face Jason had never feared dying, neither did Jason see anyone else get spared from Willis’s wrath. When Willis was angry, punishment was dished out evenly - it didn't make it fair, but Jason never felt like anyone was better than him. Unlike Bruce - who held in his rage till the others are gone, and Jason is in range. _ Like I ’m his families whipping boy.  _

 

As far as Jason could remember, Willis had been more self destructive then abusive to either of them. The backhands stung, and Catherine sported a bruised arms every few months, yet as soon as it happened Willis would storm off, be gone for weeks and come back with groceries and money, and a guilty look that would be erased with a beer, everyone pretended that the older man wasn’t more banged up, more scared, and bruised. We were always bruised and battered.

 

Jason had thought that it was normal; everyone in his neighborhood sported a black eye at one point or another. The sound of screaming was as common as car honks. Maybe that's why Jason did poorly under Bruce's care. He had no idea what life without abuse is - Dr. H is right; it's hard to tell how or why Jason is the way he is.

 

Jason had never known what love was without some pain, it’s why he was able to accept the BS Bruce constantly put him, and the other trail of broken kids, through. He’d never thought that love could be painless, he hadn’t requested it - so Bruce had never delivered.  That train of thought seemed wrong. He’d known tenderness he’d experienced it from the very people he had related pain too, and now that he let his maze of a mind straighten up he could remember good times. 

 

In the Grey areas, there are good things 

 

His mother cooking dinner. Catherine feeling so soft when she held Jason in cold nights and song him lullabies. Willis had been gentle when he taught Jason how to tie his shoes, when he let Jason take sips of his beer. And Jason was kind when he held Bizz in his arms or tended to Roy's injuries. Gothamites are nice - when given the appropriate situation. 

 

Maybe Bruce had known Jason was all messed up; maybe his old mentor understood that Jason came from an abusive background and force was the only thing Jason understood. Maybe Bruce had figured Jason needed to be ruffed up - otherwise, he wouldn’t feel at home? Maybe that's why Bruce could never truly love Jason; a Gotham street rat was far too jagged for a billionaire to hold close. 

 

_ No, that's not right. _

 

Jason was more forgiving to Bruce - because he had expected to be abused.  

 

_ I want more now.  _

 

He’d gotten a taste of that kind of relationship from Bizz. He gotten a love he hadn’t realized he’d craved till the big guy loved Jason. And Jason had loved him back. Unconditionally. 

 

Had Willis been given help, he may have been a whole lot better. Sighing Jason pulls out his cellphone switches on the flashlight. He continues his search - he can't turn around now. His knee aches, mud covered his pants, and he knows he’s a fool looking for the grave of a man that may have or may not have been sick like him. 

 

He’s crying by the time he finds him, night has set in, and there’s fog rolling in, and still, he can see clearly printed Willis Todd is on a crumbly pale sandstone. There is no relief from finding him. Just a cold emptiness, his labored breathing his only companion. 

 

“Hi Willis.” there’s a sob that follows “I - I’m -Fuck.” he sits on the floor, no use in protecting already stained pants “I’m - here - I just came to say - that I don’t - That I- Damn it!” 

 

Jason closes his eyes, and lets himself cry for a minute; the stress of the situation is too much for him to bare. He’s got so many memories, fuzzy images to organize in his mind. Willis and Catherine fighting over money, Willis telling Catherine she’s a terrible person, Catherine Crying, Willis laughing and Catherine laughing. He’d been so young when it all went down. It could be that his young mind couldn’t understand the complicated nature of his parent's relationship. 

 

Thinking about his relationships, how fucked up they are. He thinks about how Artemis had tried to kill him, how they had then co-parented Biz within the same month! He thinks about how he’d tried to kill Tim and how at one point he’d be willing to die for the guy. How much he had hated his replacement and how much had loved him later, and how much he can't stand being around him now.  So many complicated relationships - so much he wishes he’d asked Willis and Catherine. 

 

“ Why didn’t you give me up for adoption? What did you think would happen?- was anyone there for you?”  He keeps a hand on the shoulder of the gravestone. 

 

“You know, up until a couple of years ago, I could have easily said that I hated you. Now, I know that I had been lying for a while - Willis - I did - I DO care about you.”

 

He blinks the tears won’t stop coming, not that Jason cared anymore.  “I should ‘ave called ya name out, that day the cops took ya - ya ‘member? I jus thought to my self - I’m da man of the house now, no time ta cry”  

 

That memory is as clear as day, Willis sitting at the back of a police car, unable to lift his head.

 

“I was so scared - I know ya were too.” 

 

“I’m not saying that you have - been forgiving for the shit that you put *hick-up* me through, Mom *sniff* she  - a, she was sick - and I think yo’re sick too, like me. - I was dead once too, we was all dead together for a while - the point is Willis-” 

 

“You were a shitty father - maybe not a terra’ ble person, you gave it yor best - it sucked - my best sucks too sometimes.” 

 

“I appreciate your attempt; life's really hard - I got a lot more opportunities than you and ma got, I ain't gonna waste it.” Society had thrown his parents away; he’d always known that. The next few days were going to be pretty bad; he knows that by the tight feeling in his head. The memories that are sure to come back are going to be very painful to decipher. Stretching across the ground, he looks up to the sky. This far away from the main city, the brightest stars can barely be seen. 

 

It's cold, and the night passes by with little else spoken, Jason falls asleep on the brittle grass with flickers of memories behind his eyelids.  When he wakes up Jason's back is stiff, and there's dried snot in his shirt. He struggles to his feel and is glad his knee doesn't hurt anymore.  _ Good old  lazarus pit _

 

He stands for a moment over Willis's grave, the sun rise streams between the rows of tombstones, he can see dew drops shimmering on every blade of grass. With one more glance across the massive cemetery, Jason Todd takes it all in, before stepping back and walking away. 

 

**Therapy session: 4 weeks since the last dose**

 

“I spent the night with Willis,...it was nice.”

 

“And did you come to terms with him?”

 

“Yea’ I did.” He had, for the first time, he can recall memories of being with the man. 

 

“So tell me about him, tell me about your Willy, Jason”  she winks at him, snorting he hands her a stack of letters. 

 

The next morning, he runs out of orange stickers and starts the new dose. He lets Dr. H know.

 

He's made an effort going out; he maims two human trafficking agents and patrols as the Red Hood. For 78 hrs he brought his wrath down on Gotham - he tortures a little and blows shit up, he didn't let anyone think he was slacking off. 

 

He pays a surprise visit to his Lieutenants and dealers. It felt good tormenting them. Nitpicking everything they’ve done in the last month. Some of them look terrified, most, to Jason’s amusement - seemed relieved to have him there.   

 

Roy shows up after with a smile, a stock tank, and Jar of lemonade.

 

“Make me a pool or pond” Jason tries not to laugh too hard. After the three first weeks on his new meds, he starts patrolling. He takes inventory and lets Roy know about the motel - nothing more. 

 

He checks in on the food trucks, the shops, the new nail salon he owns. He starts surfing the web for property being sold in Gotham, and slowly makes a list of places he wants to add to his collection. 

 

**You'll be the damn prince of Gotham**

 

_ Just watch me Willis, be more.  _

 

It's been two months on his new meds when Nightwing shows up on his patrol route, the two ex Robin's fall back into a routine. Neither of them speaks the first night, nor the next. It's on the third night that the silence is broken.

 

“You've been gone for a while little wing, I was starting to worry.”

 

“Eh, had ta do some work. I was around durin’ the day.”  Nightwing nose scrunches 

 

“Day patrol, - I'll pass.”

 

“Some sun might do ya some good” 

 

The keep pace with one another, jumping over alleys, skirting around sunroofs and vent outlets. 

 

“I'm a little jealous that Tim, Steph, and B got to eat ice cream with you and play basketball, I'm hurt Little Wing, I thought we had something special.” 

 

“You're my special pain in the ass.” 

 

“Then you're gone for months, changed your patrol route.”

 

“I have a life ya know.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying; I want in on it.”

 

“Ya done?”

 

“I want to get ice cream with you.” Even with the domino mask on, Dick's eyes looked puppyish. 

 

“It's 11:39 at night, there are-” from his pack, he pulls out two ice cream sandwiches. Jason snorts, this might have worked on him two years ago. Yes, it would have, two years ago Jason would have eagerly agreed to spend a day with Dick. Maybe He'd even had the guts to ask the older man to go out for a drink, catch up. It’s too bad that every time Dick does something nice all Jason can hear is the sound of a mad man's laughter, red lips stretched bloody.  _ You put me in a cell by my killer. _

 

They ate slowly; Dick did most the talking, it was nice looking across Gotham’s smoggy skyline while eating ice cream with a man that he once considered a brother. _ I have no brothers  _

 

“Tim's been wanting to patrol with us, can I bring him next time?”  _ why not Duke?  _

 

Jason starts weighing the options if he says no Dick will not bring Tim, and Dick would continue to push the next time and every time he showed up during patrol, causing Jason to shoot him and all hell would break loose. Say yes, and the flood gates would open. 

 

“I'd rather not, bad enough having Nightwing ‘round RedHood, Red Robin showings up would destabilize this area.” My mind specifically Nightwing narrows his eyes at him “look N, the less contact with the Bats the homeless have the less likely they'll be used as bait, Red Hood knows everyone and nobody is willing to risk being killed or disfigured, you guys though - slap in the hand, I'm not taking that risk.” 

 

“Come on Hood, maybe don't talk to everyone under a rag-”

 

“This is how I do things, they trust me to protect them - and I will - from anyone” the point isn't lost, Nightwing jaw tightens. 

 

“I didn't mean-”

 

“Chill, I aint angry - my schedule erratic - ya seen it ya self, I rather Red patrol his part of Gotham then let it go unwatch, wait’n for me to show.- You know I do day patrols and underworld stuff.” 

 

Dick is pleased with the response. 

 

“I'm really happy on how things are going, I know it's not perfect, there's so much we need to figure out - thank you, Jason, for giving us one more shot.”    _ Like I believe you-you want to put me back in Arkham.  _

 

“I gotta go. I got shit to do.” Jason leaps of the building and swings off. He doesn't hear from Nightwing till the next week. He doesn’t see any of the Bats till a G of G fundraiser. 

 

They were done doing renovation (the money was all spent), the initiative to raise money started and Jason was roped into a bake sale. He’d mentioned it to Roy, that he’d be heading out the next day - the archer had seemed surprised and had asked Jason for how long he’d be out for, and if he’d ever done this kind of work. It wasn’t the strangest question Roy had asked, his friend knows about the organization and all the work Jason has put in it. Still, Roy seemed very interested - and tagged along. He’d been happy enough in helping setting up the booth, rounding in sponsors, and putting in grunt work. He never strayed too far from Jason, making Jason think that maybe Roy was here for his own problems - being alone can sometimes bring about the monsters you’re fighting. In return - Jason didn’t stray far from Roy. 

 

It was something about selling homemade cupcakes and cookies for three bucks each that made Jason feel exasperated at all times. It was hot ass hell, and the frosting was meling on the cupcakes. He was placed near a flower stand and was now mosquito chow. Roy popped in with a bag of things he’d acquired from other stalls and plopped down next to Jason.  

  
  


That’s when he sees them - the Waynes.  Fucking all of them - Ok it’s an exaggeration, It’s Dick, Tim, and Bruce but it might as well be all of them. Dick sees him right away and heads over with a grin and a wave. Jason really wishes more people were buying at his stall; a line would be a nice way to say he was too busy. No such luck - the few that are at his stand buy and leave just as quickly as they can. It’s still early, an event like this wasn’t ever going to bring a large crowd, even with it being located outside Gotham U main entrance, he’s still got a boatload of cookies to sell.  _  Shit   _

 

“Did you know that they would be coming?” 

 

“No” 

 

“It’s not far from WE, and maybe they were going for a meeting?” It’s a rational thought, Gotham U had plenty of large meeting rooms that corporations like to use to look - hip.  WE were always looking for ways to appeal to the masses. A gathering place for middle and upper-class youths would be the best place for anyone to cultivate fallowing. 

 

It’s one of the reasons GG is here, one of the GG board members thought that they should be more inclusive with a potential of bringing in more volunteer from upper Gotham not only in Lower Gotham - it’s code for let’s go to where there are people that have money to spend. He knew for a fact that the board members didn’t give a rats ass about the Gotham elite, and at times a few showed hostility to anyone not coming from the Lower Gotham.  _ Good old Gothamites  _

 

If Jason remembers correctly Tim and Steph are enrolled in Gotham U, that could be a reason for them being here. He feels an arm go around his shoulders.

 

“Breath, Jaybird”  He can feel Roy sitting closer to him, protectively scooting his chair further in front of him.

 

“Little Wing!” Dick's already scooping up cookies and cupcakes into a bag. “I didn’t know you were going to be here? Are you part of this? Did you bake these? How much for a bag? Don’t tell Alfred this is what I’m having for Brunch, ok?” It’s Roy who answers all the questions with a fake smile. 

 

It wasn't that Jason was panicking - he just had nothing to say - nor any air to breath. 

 

They'll know, they all know about the GG, about Jason. Bruce will know. Everything that he's worked his ass off for will be taken from him.

 

He feels the arm around his neck, warm and anchoring. Who cares? Let them know. He's done nothing wrong. He's already graduated, GG is legit, there is no record of his home nor his business. He's going to be ok.

 

Air fills his lungs again,  Roy doesn't move his arm.

 

“What are you guys doing here?” Roy asks when he stands to start packing away all the sweets Dick's bought. Jason's neck is left with his lingering heat.

 

“WE invited me to talk at the School of Business; I figure since I'll be done by lunchtime, to bring Bruce along - Dick just nosey.” 

 

Jason doesn't point out the Gotham U's college of business has several buildings dedicated and paid by WE. The Drake's have a structure too if memory serves Jason right. Not to mention the slew of internships that WE funnel their way. Tim being part time drop out, makes Tim perfect to have been asked to talk. Jason nods along and hands the massive package over. 

 

“I didn't know you guys volunteered at…” Tim looks at the banner “G of G?” He sent Jason a polite smile when he grabbed one of the handouts on the edge of the table. He noticed that Bruce already had one. Roy’s stood up and talking about GG like he’s founded the damn thing and paying no attention to the fact that only Dick was giving him courtesy nods.

 

Bruce comes around Dick and looks mildly interested at the baked goods on the table. The Batman doesn’t have a sweet tooth, and if he did it would only be satisfied by the expert baking of agent A. Not, the amateur hands of retired teachers, and a very very medicated vigilante. Jason’s cookies leaves a lot to be desired, too low in sugar and kind of dry. Jason’s hands had made the very cookie Dick is currently cramming in his mouth. Batman gives Jason a tiny smile. 

 

“How much are you guys trying to raise?” Bruce says mildly like it’s not the most loaded question a millionaire could ask. Jason shrugs, his lips feel stiff, and his throat is dry. He painfully unhinges his jaw to speak. Not that he got a chance with Roy’s motormouth, runs over Jason’s words.  

 

“We’re just raising money, thas all.”  Roy is still standing, more barrier than sells man. 

 

2.8 million would be ideal money to raise, he’d be damned before letting WE fund the thing, the people of Gotham are, and Jason is busting his ass double time to put money in that fund jar. Just to have some rich guy do it with a snap of fingers. No, Bruce may mean well, WE does a lot of fund giving. It just that doesn’t set a good precedence for handouts to be given. At this point, Gothamites need to feel proud of themselves, to have any lasting effects. 

 

“Can I get you guys anymore?” Roy says, looking at Dick.

 

“Oh, this is good, thanks. How long are you guys staying here?”

 

“Forever.” there was tense stand still.

 

Nothing more than a chuckle can come out of Jason, He’d let Roy take charge if it’s what his friend needed. It looks like Roy wants to both fight and sit on Jason. 

 

“Ya guys say hi to Alf for me.”

 

“Little wing, why don't you come over this week for a visit?”

 

“We're pretty busy this whole life, maybe in the next”  Jason smiles and lean back to watch the show. Dick's eyes are narrowed. To say that Roy and Dick's relationship was as solid as it has been in their Titans days would be a lie. Their fallout had been as painful as teens. They patched up their friendship only for Roy to fall back into addiction, distance to grow. When the Outlaws formed, and Roy began a relationship with Kori, things got pretty awkward. Jason's not sure what happened after that. He never asked it wasn't any of his business.

 

“Gee- Roy, I wasn't in-”

 

“Jay and I are working; we don't want you-”

 

“How about you let Jason speak for himself,” Tim says, letting Dick sputter angrily beside him.

 

“I am Jason's spokes man -”

 

“Are you? I wasn't aware.” Tim says, his small frame standing rigged. “When did this-”

 

“Well, when your dad tries to kill my best friend, that gives me certain license” Jason wills himself to stand, Roy’s more than a little jumpy at this point. Never a good sign for someone battling an addiction. 

 

“ I’ve been on talking to Alf on the phone.” He manages a tight smile “Roy’s is right; we’re pretty busy right now, wouldn’t want the paparazzi having pictures of the Waynes fighting with volunteers. Ya guys should prob’lee leave” sure enough as if on Q the sound of people crowding closer and cellphones being pulled out seemed deafening. Jason was not going to look at Bruce.  <

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be editing this chapter and the last this coming week. Let me know what needs some fixing and what needs clearing.
> 
> I won't be posting for another few weeks
> 
> Once again thank you for reading


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